Harmony
by kwater
Summary: Dean and Sam are called upon to investigate a missing persons in upstate New York. Set early in season 1, this story is part of my Brother's series which include Fall River and Lovely.
1. Chapter 1

Harmony, New York

"And over here we have a piece you might find interesting."

Emma Stone, forced a smile, and followed the silver-haired, art dealer through the arched doorway. Her critical gaze drifted over the plethora of framed paintings that lined the walls of the hundred-year-old farmhouse turned art gallery. After spending the past two weeks touring western New York on a buying trip, she'd come across at least fifty, so-called, 'Galleries' tucked into at least two dozen out of the way towns like Harmony. With a population of less than twenty-five hundred people, the tiny burg's only claim to fame was its quaint downtown.

Buildings dating back to the late eighteen hundreds and cobblestone walkways gave the town a historic feeling making it a popular choice for tourists. Even now at just a little past noon, Emma had seen couples strolling hand in hand as they gazed into the storefronts.

The town's charming feel is what led Emma herself to stop in search of a quiet lunch before she jumped back on the highway heading east. While she'd meandered along the sidewalk a sign for the Harmony Gallery had captured her attention.

Though it hadn't been on her list of places to check out, she'd gone inside on a chance. It had been too early for lunch at the little café down the street and she had no interest in checking out the more touristy shops for the next hour.

The added attraction was the possibility, minute though it might be that she just might find something of interest. Over the last four years, she had built a solid reputation and had become one of the youngest buyers in the history of her auction house. It didn't hurt that she had a knack for finding obscure artists and launching them into the limelight. She knew more than anyone that the next 'new thing' could be around any corner, or around any ancient plaster wall.

Her earlier enthusiasm had begun to wan about ten minutes after she'd scoped out the main showroom. The endless array of pastoral settings, quaint barns, and baby farm animals led her to believe the artists in Chautauqua County were lacking for inspiration.

More then ready to move on, Emma nonetheless followed the stout Mrs. Hodges. The older woman's enthusiasm and obvious pride in her shop made it impossible for Emma to be rude.

At last, the owner came to a stop in a small alcove. There she gestured toward a canvas covered square that stood at least three feet long and four foot wide. "Here we are. Now this piece was picked up at an estate sale a little more than three months ago." The tiny woman gestured toward the covered easel. "So far I've been unable to verify who the artist was, but, given the previous owner I feel confident in saying it's an…"

Unable to help herself, Emma leaned forward in anticipation.

"…Ogilvie."

Despite her better judgment, Emma's heart did a little dance at the older woman's reveal. An Ogilvie, buried here in the middle of nowhere would be a discovery of a lifetime. Too bad there was little chance that it was an actual piece of work by the famed artist.

"An Olgilvie," Emma said flatly, not even bothering to hide her skepticism.

A flare of annoyance or perhaps something even stronger flashed in the older woman's eyes. "Not John Ogilvie, of course," she admitted.

Emma's impatience led her to answer more sharply than she intended, "I didn't think so."

Now openly frowning Mrs. Hodges continued, "It's believed this work was painted by Gerta Ogilvie, a distant cousin on his father's side."

Though there might be a market among ardent Ogilvie fans, for some lost cousin's work, no real collector would give the piece the time of day. That was likely the reason it had never made it farther than this minor gallery. More than ready to put this tiny burg behind her, Emma forced a smile and enthused her voice with a bit more excitement, "Really, how interesting."

Apparently, she overdid it on the pep, for the older woman's frown was replaced by a toothy smile.

"Oh, you have no idea."

Well and truly caught, Emma nodded half-heartedly and resigned herself to wasting an hour.

In a gesture more appropriate for Vanna White, then a woman that was most likely a grandmother several times over, Mrs. Hodges approached the easel, swiped off the canvas drop cloth, and enthused, "Ta Da!"

Curiosity had Emma leaning in for a closer look. At first glance, her gaze was captured not by the canvas itself, but by the aged wooden frame that surrounded it. Simply made, the two-inch wide wooden border surrounding the canvas was in surprisingly bad shape. Chipped and peeling paint exposed coatings of different finishes. Emma could easily pick out layers of antique white, gilded gold, and even a glossy black enamel that looked to have been applied sometime in the eighties. Overall, the mottled frame did little but distract the viewer from the canvas it was supposed to compliment.

Already thoroughly unimpressed, Emma forced her gaze from the tired looking frame and focused on the canvas.

888

"You've got to be friggin' kiddin' me."

He couldn't help but grin at his big brother's incredulous expression. "I told you it was big."

"Yeah, Sam, you said big. This thing isn't big, it's huge." Dean reached up and wrapped a hand around his neck and grimaced. "How the hell're we gonna get the damn thing out of here?"

Sam really couldn't blame his brother for his outburst considering the size of the creature before them. "Hey don't ask me, I said I knew what it was, not how to get rid of it. It's a Bunyip, a water monster from Australia."

"'Course it is," Dean muttered as he took a step closer and bent down. "Damn things gotta be twelve feet long, and are those fangs?"

The younger Winchester nodded, thoroughly enjoying Dean's uncertainty. The older hunter liked to pretend he'd seen it all, but considering the look on his face, it was obvious there were still surprises to be had. "Actually, I think they're more like tusks. We've got to get it out of there; it's already killed half the dogs in the neighborhood."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's obvious statement and shrugged, "Obvious much. The drought must have forced it out of the lake."

Sam moved to his brother's side and Dean straightened. They stood side by side, only feet from the creature that lay submerged in the water basin before them. With only its dull yellow eyes and snout sticking out of the murky water it wasn't hard to believe that no one had reported seeing the creature yet.

In fact, if it hadn't been for some local gossip about missing dogs, Sam and Dean would have left Salem days ago, none the wiser.

The heat wave that had left the tiny Pennsylvania town limp and worn out had no doubt played a factor in the Bunyip's sudden appearance in a newly built water basin. The seemingly endless hot spell had turned most of the area's watering holes into muddy puddles. This left the local wildlife to either adapt or perish. Obviously, the grey-skinned creature had gone looking for the nearest body of water, and had settled for the brackish water of a high-end neighborhood water basin. Sam doubted that the builder, who'd dug the glorified pond, had ever imagined such an animal would end up calling it home.

He didn't want to consider, what was going to happen when the Bunyip had eaten up the neighborhood's share of Poodles and Pomeranians and decided the local kids would do just as well.

They needed the creature gone and they needed it gone now.

"Come on, Sam!"

Dean's exclamation startled him out of his perusal of the water creature. Teetering on the edge of the bank, he tried not to pay attention to the long black tongue that darted out of the creature's dog-like snout, or the way the monster seemed to lean toward the hunter in anticipation, as he worked to get his balance back.

Suddenly, a strong hand wrapped around his forearm and jerked him backward onto solid ground. "Watch your step, I sure as hell ain't jumping in after your ass."

Knowing full well his brother was full of crap, Sam just snorted and moved a couple steps back from the edge of the water. As if sensing his chance at dinner had passed, the creature slipped back beneath the water.

Dean, already well on his way up the embankment, called over his shoulder, "Haul ass, Sammy."

"It's Sam," the younger hunter snapped in irritation as he followed his brother up the hill. "So what now?"

"Now, well now I want a beer. Then tonight we're gonna come back here and take Bunny for a little ride."

888

"I can't believe you named the thing," Sam complained once again.

"Quit your harping, Francis. It'll be a piece of cake," Dean reassured his brother as he approached the cul-de-sac where he'd parked earlier in the day. He'd insisted on leaving the Impala well away from the neighborhood just in case this whole thing went to hell. That left the brothers on foot with nothing more than a duffle bag full of weapons. Not that Dean had much faith that the shotgun he'd brought would penetrate "Bunny's" think skin, but, at least he felt a little less naked with weapons on hand.

"Sure," Sam snapped as he trotted side by side next to his brother, "A real walk in the park."

Dean didn't bother to hide his grin at the younger man's sarcastic tone. Sam had made it clear on more than one occasion that he didn't like the plan. "I told you at the motel, you got a better idea, feel free to speak up."

His brother's stone-cold silence made it clear they'd be following Dean's plan. "It'll be a cake-walk, I'm telling you. Just keep watch, you see someone coming and you head them off. I'll take care of the rest."

Given the pre-dawn quiet, Sam's snort of disbelief sounded more like one of Bunny's growls. Dean really couldn't blame him. Despite the confidence he was working hard to project, he knew his plan was chancy at best. The hardest part wouldn't be getting Bunny out of the pond. The hardest part would be keeping a lid on their little endeavor. The elder Winchester was hoping that the neighborhood's well-built houses, combined with the hum of air conditioners that marked every home, would help to muffle the noise. "At least there's not a dog left in the neighborhood to narc us out," Dean muttered as he approached their destination.

"Very funny," Sam groaned as he veered off to the right.

A kind of bitter pride flowed through Dean as he watched his leggy brother disappear into the shadows. The kid had only been back on the job for a little over four months and yet it was like he'd never left. As if college and the life he'd led there had never happened. It saddened Dean in ways he didn't want to think about, and yet, there was something right in having Sam at his side once more.

"Dean!" Sam hissed out of the shadows.

The reminder served to break Dean's chain of thought and made him realize he'd come to a halt in a beam of light from an overhead florescent streetlight. Feeling suddenly exposed, the green-eyed hunter bolted the last fifteen feet to stand before his target. Construction had yet to be finished on this section of the neighborhood. Among the hulking shadows of houses, yet to be finished stood an even larger shadow. It was before this shape that Dean came to rest, a thrill of excitement causing him to bounce up and down on his toes for just a minute.

It was moments like this when he couldn't help but love his job.

888

Sam hunched low, giving the quiet neighborhood a cursory glance as he waited for his brother. He was surprised when the older hunter paused for a moment in the bright light of a street lamp. Carelessness wasn't the norm for Dean. As the moment, stretched on, Sam felt his nerves tense.

Certain he'd missed something that had caused his brother to stop in such a conspicuous spot, he again scanned the ever lightening area. At last, he barked the older man's name. "Dean!"

At his call, his brother jumped a bit and began to move once more. If Sam didn't know better he would have guessed that the experienced hunter had been caught daydreaming in the middle of a hunt. Sam chuckled as he pushed aside the thought, Dean Winchester didn't do distracted, and he certainly didn't do distracted during a hunt.

Focusing on his surroundings once more, Sam didn't see his brother reach his destination but he certainly heard it. The loud growl that rolled across the neighborhood seemed even louder than Sam had imagined. With a prayer to the gods that he and his brother didn't end up in some joke of a county jail by the day's end, Sam continued to play watchdog.

888

"Don't say it," Sam snapped as he flung one hand up in warning.

"To what are you referring?" Dean mocked as he raised the beer in his hand and took a long pull.

"Don't say what I know you're dying to say. I'm not listening to any 'I told you so's' on this one."

"Come on, Sam," Dean joked, "The whole thing went off without a hitch and Bunny's safe and sound in his new home."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's words, "That's what you call without a hitch? We got stopped by no less than two cops inquiring as to what we were moving at the crack of dawn. Your damn 'Bunny' nearly took a hunk out of your side and as if all that's not bad enough you wouldn't even kill the damn thing."

Dean looked down at his side where his brother had a wad of cotton pressed against the bite mark that now marred his left hip. "I've had worse. And I just couldn't do it, Sam. You saw its eyes. I just didn't have the heart to put a bullet in the poor creature."

Voice raised in irritation, Sam didn't hesitate to push harder against his brother's wound. "Poor creature, that poor creature is most likely gonna escape again and end up eating someone's German Shepard for dinner."

His kid brother had been making this same argument for the last hour, but Dean could tell he was running out of steam. Content to let Sam fuss, he took another long pull on his ice-cold beer. The hotel they'd fled too didn't offer much in the way of ambiance, but at least the mini-fridge was in good working order, and the beer was nice and cold. "Come on, Sam, your supposed to be the one with the soft heart. Where's the kid that used to feed every stray that wandered across our path?"

"That 'kid' understands there's a bit of a difference between giving a stray dog a few left-overs and allowing a mutant hippo to chomp on my brother."

Dean couldn't help but grin at the mutant hippo comment, and really Sam wasn't far off the mark. There was little to recommend the creature, which Dean had managed to scoop up along with enough water to keep it covered inside the metal bucket of a large earth-mover. Given the way it had growled and snapped the entire ride really didn't leave a person with the warm and fuzzy's. So, how was Dean going to explain just why he hadn't been able to take the warped creatures life, even when it had threatened his own. "You said it yourself, it doesn't go after humans."

"Not unless it gets hungry enough," Sam countered, his expression still mulish.

More then ready to let the whole thing go, Dean shrugged and pointed toward his side. "You plannin' on letting me bleed to death or are you going to patch me up."

"Fine," Sam snapped, as he carefully pulled away the cotton batting that had been staunching Dean's bleeding. Practically snarling, the younger Winchester examined the wound, which honestly didn't look that bad from Dean's angle, and began gathering supplies.

As he did, he muttered a litany of curses that seemed to center mainly around the idea that his brother was and idiot, bunyips were idiots and he was an idiot for ever agreeing to his idiot brother's idiot plan.

Dean content that Sam would forgive, if not forget his mercy treatment of the creature, leaned back, set his empty beer on the nightstand, and closed his eyes. Despite how angry his brother was, Sam's treatment of his wound was quick and relatively painless.

"There, I'm not gonna stitch it. You're gonna end up with a scar but it shouldn't be too bad."

Now that Dean's bleeding had been taken care of Sam seemed to relax a bit, even excepting the beer the older hunter offered him with a ghost of a smile. "You'd better come up with a new scar story though, no one's gonna believe that was caused by a gang fight, or what was the other one you used to use?"

"Racecar driver," Dean said with a smirk. "Horrible accident, I lost my will to drive and everything. It was the love of a good woman that finally brought me around."

"No one spins crap like you, big brother," Sam replied dryly, referring to Dean's liberal use of the plot line to the movie Days of Thunder.

"Hey, it's better that then 'Hi, I hunt your worst nightmares', believe me I speak from experience." Dean answered. The older Winchester had learned the hard way that some truths were just too bizarre for people to believe. Hell, there were things that he'd seen in his lifetime that he still couldn't wrap his mind around.

Just then Sam's phone began to ring.

Both brothers turned to stare at the rectangle where it sat on the night table closest to Sam. For a moment both men were stunned, identical looks of surprise stamped on their handsome faces.

It was Dean that broke first. "Sam!"

Sam's hand shot toward the phone, but hovered over it rather than picked it up. "What if it's Dad?" the younger man muttered.

Dean who'd circled the bed and now stood next to his lanky sibling moved to reach past Sam for the phone. His brother grabbed it first.

Pressing talk, Sam braced himself and put the phone to his ear, "Hello?"


	2. Chapter 2

888

"So, let me get this straight, we're heading to some town in western New York on a missing persons?" Dean questioned as he tossed the last duffle bag onto the back seat of the Impala.

"Pretty much," Sam replied easily as he spread out a map on the hood of the Chevy.

"Sara's not sure exactly where Emma went missing," Sam continued as he traced a route for his brother. "She's given me the last location where the woman used her credit card. Apparently she stopped at a gas station just outside of some town called Harmony."

"Harmony, great," Dean snorted as he made a mental note of the routes they'd be following. "You know I'd feel a hell of a lot better if the town was named 'Sucksville' or better yet 'You're-going-to-die-ville."

"How about 'There's-a-killer-town'" Sam joked at Dean's reference to the last time the brothers had found themselves in a town with an inspirational name.

Lovely, Kentucky had been anything but. It was there that a much younger Dean and Sam had been caught by a monster named Smith. The creature had been all for making some permanent alterations to Sam and Dean. It was only by the brother's combined efforts that they'd managed to make it out of that one.

"And Sara called you because…."

"She called me because this Emma woman just up and disappeared; the cops have been all over and have yet to find any sign of her. They've basically given up."

Dean nodded slightly and grinned. "Still, why call you? Why not hire a private dick?"

Sam determinedly ignored his brother's sly grin and shrugged, "The family did. Still a no go. Sara's desperate to find her friend, so, she figured maybe it's something up our alley."

With a snort the older hunter climbed into the driver's seat and pulled the car door shut. "Right," he drawled, "'Up our alley'. Is that her polite way of saying we're freaks so maybe we can catch a freak?"

"Basically," Sam agreed as he joined his brother in the car. That had been his thought as well when the call he'd received had turned out to be from Sara Blake, the daughter of an auctioneer, they'd helped out in New York.

Sam wanted to defend Sara but to be honest, he figured his brother was probably right. While the pretty art expert had seen firsthand just how strange Sam's life was when he and his brother had saved her from being killed, he'd noticed the few time's he'd spoken to her since, she'd seemed to pull back.

He could fully understand just how she felt. Her brush with the supernatural may have left her slightly more open-minded than most people, but it hadn't really changed her perspective in life. Now that the danger was past, Sam and his brother's lives were something she truly couldn't comprehend. They were simply too warped to fit into the cut-and-dry mold that Sara kept people in.

The young hunter couldn't help but wonder if there was anyone out there who could truly accept the life he led.

"Yeah, well let's be honest, she's right." Dean admitted with a grin. "If something has taken her friend, we're probably the only ones dumb enough to try and get her back."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's words, but couldn't help but feel better; just the reminder that Dean knew full well just how weird the world could be made him feel a little less alone.

When Sam had first left for college, his only thought had been to escape the world that he'd grown up in. His full focus had been trained on living in the 'normal' world. In all that time, it had never occurred to him that once he'd achieved his goal, he might find himself feeling out of place.

Surrounded by kids that had no greater worries than where the closest kegger was, he hadn't been able to hide his astonishment at how people just seemed to blunder through life without a care. Things like sitting with his back against a wall in a restaurant full of people; the urge to avoid any and all contact with the police; or casing out an exit when first entering a room, were so ingrained in Sam's psyche, that he'd never once considered that the rest of the world didn't live their lives that way.

Those first few weeks on his own, Sam had worked hard to ignore all of his training. He'd gone out of his way to prove that he could do 'normal' with the best of them, but to be honest the stress he'd felt every time he'd broken one of his father's coveted rules turned out to not be worth it. He'd finally settled on a compromise, one that allowed him to stay 'safe' without making himself a pariah in his new world.

As he'd become more comfortable with himself, he'd noticed that people were willing to overlook his 'quirks' and to welcome him into the groups and cliques that were a part of college life. There were even time's where his training had come in handy, causing the group of friends he'd hung out with to appreciate many of his stranger talents.

Focusing once more on the map he now held folded in his lap, Sam pointed out, "It could be something. This girl is just gone. No one outside of the town of Harmony has seen her and no one inside the town will admit what happened to her."

"Well alright then, Harmony, NY, here we come," Dean said as he put the car into gear and pulled out of the motel parking lot.

888

Emma awoke with a groan. Easing her hand up to her head she gingerly felt her forehead expecting to find the injury she'd sustained that was causing the pounding inside her head. To her surprise there was no gash, no gushing blood, not even a lump to be found.

Surprised by the lack of injury considering the pain she was in, the redhead worked to force her eyes open. If she hadn't been in some kind of accident, then she needed to figure out why she seemed to be lying on something that felt like cobblestones, when the last thing she remembered was being inside the Gallery looking at Mrs. Hodges' Ogilvie.

Given the fact that the only cobblestones she'd come in contact with in the last couple of days had been the sidewalks of Harmony she couldn't help but be afraid she'd taken some kind of a header on the walkway and now lay there surrounded by strangers laughing at her pratfall.

Given her penchant for clumsiness it wouldn't be the first time the twenty-five year old had wound up in a similar situation. Pressing her hands to the ground, she opened her eyes and pushed herself upright.

Again, she couldn't stop the groan that escaped her as every muscle in her body protested her movements. Apparently, this time she hadn't just managed a fall, she'd been hit by a Mac truck, or at least this is what she assumed being hit by a tractor-trailer would feel like.

Gaining her feet, Emma was proud that she only wobbled slightly as she at last stood upright. As expected there was a crowd of people surrounding her, each looking at her with a mixture of surprise.

"Oh, you poor, Dear. Tell me you're okay," a matronly looking woman called out as she wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders. "That was a terrible tumble you took."

Cursing her fair skin as she felt her face burn in embarrassment, Emma shrugged off the kind woman and laughed shakily, "I'm okay, I guess I just lost my balance for a moment."

The kind woman nodded knowingly and made a shooing gesture toward the group that was crowded around them. "Alright you lot, get gone, there's nothing left to see."

"Thanks," Emma breathed with a heartfelt sigh of relief as the group surrounding them suddenly began to drift away. Never comfortable being in the spot-light the young woman especially hated it when anyone was witness to her crazy mishaps.

"Here, Dear, why don't you come set a spell," the older woman insisted, carefully leading Emma toward the small outdoor café she'd noticed earlier in the day. Pulling a chair out from a tiny wrought-iron table, the woman waved a hand at a nearby busboy. "Timmy, some water for the young lady."

Emma sat grateful for the woman's kindness. While she still wasn't sure just what had happened the throbbing in her head was relentless. "Thanks," she whispered as she accepted the cold glass that the young man in a white apron brought her.

"Now tiny sips mind you so it doesn't come back up," the woman chided as Emma lifted the glass to drink.

Under the watchful eye of her good samaritan, Emma took just a sip and instantly felt better. The cool water slid down her throat, easing an ache she hadn't even realized she'd had. "Thanks," she said with a sigh as she pressed the cool glass against her temple.

"No worries, Dear, what kind of woman would I be if I didn't offer a bit of kindness to a stranger."

Emma smiled broadly and held out her right hand. "Emma Stone."

"Norma Winthrop," the older woman said in reply as she shook Emma's hand. "What brings you to Harmony, young Emma?"

Finishing off her water, Emma allowed herself to relax back into her chair as she answered, "I'm on a buying trip for my gallery. I stopped off to take a look at the Harmony Gallery."

At her words Norma's open expression clouded a bit. "The Gallery?" she questioned.

Waving a hand toward the renovated house that sat only a block away, Emma explained, "At Harmony house, I figured since I was in the area I might as well see if there was something that caught my interest."

Frowning slightly, Norma took a step backward and rested her hands at her waist. "You came to town alone?"

Emma frowned at the censure she heard in the older woman's voice. It was obvious Norma didn't approve of Emma traveling on her own. Finding it hard to believe in this day and age, she nonetheless strove for a diplomatic answer. She had no desire to upset the woman who'd been so kind.

Opening her mouth to respond, she found herself nearly choking on her own words as she suddenly noticed a horse and carriage making its way up Main Street. Finding the sight completely charming, Emma turned toward Norma to share her delight. "Look a horse and buggy!"

At Emma's outburst, Norma shot the younger girl another confused glance and nodded slowly. "Yes, my Dear. I see."

Given Norma's lack of interest in the carriage, Emma could only assume that it was a regular occurrence. Wondering if she'd somehow stumbled into an Amish town, she continued to watch the conveyance as it made its way down the street. As she did, she noticed that the line of cars that had earlier been parked along the street had cleared out. Wondering just how late it had gotten since she'd arrived in Harmony, she glanced down at her purse, intending to pull out her cell phone to check the time.

For the first time since she'd awoken the haze she'd felt clouding her mind finally cleared as she noticed what she was wearing. Gone were the grey slacks and yellow silk blouse she'd had on when she'd left the hotel this morning.

In their place she now wore a high collared red calico blouse with buttons that ran the length of the fitted bodice. Her sleeves were gathered at the shoulders and were full until just below her elbows at which point they became fitted. Along with the red calico blouse she now wore a matching calico skirt that reached the very tips of a pair of black boots that just peeked out from under her skirt.

Instead of the Gucci bag she'd been carrying, she now grasped a red taffeta handbag that exactly matched the red of her dress. Swinging the bag slightly, she knew there was no way she would find her cell phone tucked inside.

Shocked by her sudden change in appearance, she jumped to her feet, her hip bumping the iron-wrought table and causing it to tip slightly. Grateful for the sharp pang she felt in her side, Emma was now certain she wasn't sleeping or passed out. That left only one explanation.

Turning toward Norma, her eyes widened in surprise as she finally took notice of the other woman's appearance. What she had at first accepted as a rather dated skirt and blouse set, she now realized was a white Victorian blouse, buttoned up to just beneath her chin and a navy skirt that just brushed the tips of older woman's black boots.

"What's going on?" Emma demanded as she gestured toward her outfit. "What did you do to me?"

Norma's grey eyes widened in surprise at Emma's outburst, the older woman took a step back in fright as she held up a hand to ward the younger woman off. "I haven't done anything but try and help."

"No," Emma cried, "No, this isn't what I was wearing, where are my clothes. What did you do?"

This time Norma drew in a deep breath expanding her formidable chest and stepped well away from Emma. "Young lady, I do not know where you are from, but here in Harmony we do not accuse pillars of society of stealing clothes."

With a huff, Norma turned and walked away, her skirt swaying to match the woman's obvious irritation.

Watching Norma stalk off, Emma's gaze darted once more toward the street where yet another horse and buggy was making its way up Main Street. This time she couldn't help but notice that the woman handling the reins was clothed in a near replica of her own outfit.

Unable to understand just what had happened, Emma blinked back the moisture that was gathering in her eyes and tried to decide what to do next. Now that Norma had taken herself off, no one seemed to be paying any attention to the petite red-head.

Intent on finding the bruise or bump that had given her this spectacular hallucination, Emma reached up and found that her long hair was swept back into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. No longer surprised by anything, Emma dropped her hands, sniffed back her tears and again searched the roadway. It was as she was watching a wagon with a family of four make its way down the street that she remembered her car.

When she'd first arrived in town she'd chosen to park the rental down one of the side streets to avoid the parking meter's which lined the main thoroughfare. Now as she hurried down the sidewalk intent on finding her car, tripping over her long skirt, she couldn't help but mutter, "be there, be there, be there…."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

888

"Damn, it's even worse than I thought," Dean snarled as he maneuvered the big black Chevy against the cobblestone curb that lined the main thoroughfare.

"I don't know, seems like a nice enough place." Sam replied easily as he took in downtown Harmony.

With a snort, Dean rolled his eyes at his brother's comment. "Yeah, nice enough if you're a Stepford. I mean come on, Sam. No way there's a town this perfect. I can already feel the evil."

Sam gazed about, taking in the tree lined streets, the well-appointed homes and the small business' that lined the avenue. Unable to help it, he teased, "Yeah, I see what you mean, Dean, this place is just waiting to erupt."

"Yeah, well yuck it up all you want, Chuckles, but I'm telling you now, nothing good's going to come out of this place."

Listening to the seriousness in his brother's tone, Sam again scanned the streets, trying to figure out just what had Dean's hackles up. Again, nothing jumped out at him. Couples strolled along the streets, a nearby café was doing a steady stream of business and there were even a couple kids playing jump rope in front of a tiny ice-cream shop. Harmony looked like Any-town, USA, better in fact given its obvious lack of graffiti and crime.

Then Sam's gaze darted over at a restored three-story Victorian home, and he couldn't help but notice the hint of unease that ghosted up his spine. Focusing more fully on the beautifully appointed home, he shrugged off the feeling as he noted the building's perfectly manicured lawn and surrounding gardens.

Without thinking, Sam returned his gaze to his brother and chided, "Since when'd you become so cynical. Sometimes a town's just a town."

A flash of pain flickered through Dean's hazel eyes at Sam's words, making the young hunter remember that he hadn't been a part of his brother's life for the last two years. Given Dean's closed off expression he had plenty of reasons to be so cynical.

"Like our good friends in Indiana? I mean that was just a town."

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, "Come on, really? You're going to bring up the scarecrow. Burkittsville isn't the norm, Dean, this is."

"You really have been gone a long time, Sam" Dean growled, his gaze scanning the tiny hamlet. "Burkittsville is the norm, or at least it's the norm for us."

Not ready to concede the point, but no longer willing to argue, Sam shook his head and pushed open the Impala's heavy door. Wincing slightly at the squeal of protest the old car made at the gesture, Sam couldn't help but glance guiltily toward the outdoor café that was only a few building's down.

As expected the brothers had drawn attention. Patrons of the restaurant were now watching avidly as Dean made his way around the car. Sam rolled his eyes and resolutely turned his back on their audience. He hadn't actually planned on alerting the entire town that they'd arrived. It was always easier to find the truth if you could catch people off guard. In this case, they needed all the help they could get. Sara Blake had mentioned that the private detective that had been investigating Emma's disappearance hadn't had much luck questioning the residents in the tiny burg.

"What now, Sam? Nearest Motel's forty minutes out which means if we're planning on finding this girl, we'd better find someplace a bit closer to work from."

Sam nodded as he gazed up and down the street hoping for inspiration. As a newspaper vending machine caught his attention, he quickly searched his pockets for loose change. Coming up short, he held a hand out to his brother. "You got any change."

Dean stared hard at his brother before thrusting his hand into his jeans pocket and fished out a handful of quarters. "A newspaper, Dude? Do you really need to read about Aunt Fanny's Award Winning jam recipe or find out that Farmer Fred's prize winning pig ran away?"

His brother's words shocked a true laugh out of Sam as he purchased the daily news. Still chuckling, he made his way back to the car and spread the paper out on the hood. As he took a look at the front page, a long fingered hand reached forward and tapped the paper's first headline.

"Told you so."

As Sam took in the day's top news story, he couldn't help but jab his elbow into Dean's side. "Just because there's an article about a county fair doesn't mean there's no real news," he assured his brother with more conviction than he felt. "Besides I'm not looking for news, I'm looking for a place to stay."

Skipping to the back of the paper, Sam quickly scanned the real estate section until an ad caught his interest. "Here we go, room for rent, looks as if it's just off Main Street."

His brother leaned forward, and quickly gazed at the ad, nodding, he pointed back the way they'd come. "Front Street's about three blocks back. We passed it on the way in."

Carefully tearing out the ad and handing it to his brother, he then proceeded to fold up the paper. "You wanna walk?"

Dean sent one nervous glance toward the crowd that was still watching their every move and nodded for Sam to get going. "Yeah, no point in moving the car until we have a place to park it.

Sam moved out, his long stride quickly eating up the distance between them and Front Street. As he moved, he couldn't help but grin at the sight of his brother, tucked against his side, his steely gaze sweeping the residential neighborhood with a grim purpose.

Throwing out his elbow, he jostled Dean slightly and grinned down at the shorter man. "Ease up, man, we're gonna find this girl, send her on her way back home and be out of this town before the body snatchers can lay a finger on you."

"You just had to go and say it didn't you, Sam. I'm telling you now, don't come running to me, when some alien is trying to stick a probe up your-"

"No one's getting probed, Dean," Sam interrupted. "We don't even know if this girl went missing here. She could have disappeared in a hundred other towns between here and home."

"Ah, Sammy, you're so naïve. I'm telling you now, Emma was here, and it was here she disappeared, you just wait and see."

888

"No, no," Emma cried as she lifted her heavy skirt and ran the last couple of feet toward where she'd parked her rental car. Certain she'd parked the Ford right here, she closed her eyes for a moment and forced her panicked breathing to calm slightly. Giving herself a moment to quiet, she then slowly opened her eyes.

"Damn," she snapped at the still empty parking spot in front of her.

Glancing about, she began to realize the neighborhood she now found herself in was not exactly how she remembered it. Granted she hadn't take the time to really study the street when she'd parked, she'd just been thankful she'd found a place to park near the center of town that didn't require feeding a meter. Still, she was certain there had been signs lining the curbs spelling out the terms of the street parking.

Then there were the cars themselves that had once filled the tree lined street. Now, rather than a line of mini-vans and suv's there was a slow parade of horse and buggy's making their way through town.

Looking down at her clothes and then back up at the spot where her car had once sat, Emma blinked back the tears that were trying to fall. Unable to hold back the flood that threatened to overtake her, she slipped her tiny handbag off her wrist and peered inside.

Instead of the tiny pouch of Kleenex she normally kept in her purse, there was a dainty looking embroidered handkerchief. Pulling it out, she couldn't help but doubt the hygiene of blowing her nose in something she'd then have to put back in her purse. Still, persevering, she put the bit of fluff to her nose and blew.

Blanching at the now sopping handkerchief, she went to put the cloth back into her bag only to notice that she was now the proud owner of a tiny beaded change purse, and what looked like an old-fashioned iron key. Ignoring the change purse, she really doubted the tiny bag held her license and credit cards, Emma instead pulled out the key and studied it.

The key felt substantial in her hand as she traced her fingers over the ornate iron scroll work that adorned one end. As she handled the it, she couldn't help but feel as if the scroll work looked familiar. Tracing her finger over the looping pattern again and again, Emma at last realized where she'd seen a similar mark. Reaching into her bag once more she again pulled out the now soggy handkerchief.

Flattening out the scrap of cloth, Emma was surprised to see that the yellow embroidery that graced the material exactly matched the scroll work on the key. Still fingering the key, she glanced about. Taking in the Victorian houses that lined Front Street, Emma couldn't help but wonder just what she'd stumbled into.

Try as she might, she couldn't remember anything at all from the time she'd stood in the Harmony Gallery and the moment she'd awoken up outside on the sidewalk. Everything in between was a blank. Tired and still aching, Emma began to make her way down the street with no particular destination in mind. As she walked she kept turning over the moment in her mind when Mrs. Hodges had first uncovered the Ogilvie.

She could clearly remember the battered frame that housed the painting, but she couldn't remember what the painting itself entailed. That worried Emma as much as anything else did, after all art was her life.

She was only four or five houses down from where she'd last seen her rental car, when she noticed a small wooden sign. 'Birch House' it read, though that wasn't what had caught Emma's attention. No, what had caught her eye was an exact replica of the scroll work from both her key and her handkerchief that rested just underneath the painted words.

Unable to grasp just what was going on, but helpless to ignore such an obvious sign, Emma reached out and carefully pushed open the tiny yellow gate, and followed the narrow brick path toward Birch House.

888

"Here, 'Birch House'," Dean said as he slowed and nodded toward a tiny yellow cottage. Tucked in amid a street full of Victorian style homes, the little house looked slightly shabby and worn.

Taking in the painted wooden shakes, and tiny white porch complete with porch swing, Dean couldn't help but feel as if he'd come to the first real house he'd yet to see in Harmony. It was obvious that whoever owned Birch house wasn't a slave to the local historical association.

The front yard, enclosed by a low picket fence that was painted the same sunny shade of yellow as the house, included two of the biggest birch trees the older hunter had ever laid eyes on. The trees stood taller than the house, their leafy branches spread wide over the front yard throwing the whole place into shade.

"Well now, no need to just stand and stare, I don't bite,"

The brother's turned in unison at the bell like voice that called out, Dean automatically shifted slightly, putting Sam behind him. Ignoring the shove in the back from his brother, he scanned the small front yard looking for the source of the noise.

It was then he noticed an older woman waving gaily from the front porch swing. Even he had trouble holding back his smile as the woman's enthusiasm nearly caused her to lose her balance and topple off the swing.

"Watch it, that one's got evil written all over her," Sam snarked as he moved out from behind Dean and pushed open the tiny yellow gate.

"Come on, boys, I got some ice-tea put up and plate full of sandwiches with your names on it," the woman called out, gesturing again for Dean to get a move on.

Glancing once more at the tiny cottage squeezed in between the imposing perfection of the rest of the neighborhood, Dean couldn't help but feel something was seriously wrong in Harmony.

"Come on, come on," Trilled the tiny bird-like woman as Dean neared the porch. "Your brother here is gonna beat you to the good stuff."

Dean lifted a brow at his brother, who was already seated in an old wicker chair, his long legs stretched out before him. Hesitating, he hovered on the porch steps unsure of just where he was supposed to sit. It looked as if Sam had taken the only substantial seat in the bunch.

His remaining choices consisted of a spot on the swing next to their hostess, or else a tiny wrought iron chair that looked as if a strong wind might collapse it, let alone his six-foot frame. Careful to tread on a grinning Sam's size fourteens, Dean took an uneasy seat next to the white-haired lady.

"Oh, what good looking boys you are. Why I haven't had such a pair of lookers on this porch since my own boys were young," the woman crowed as she slapped her knee, obviously tickled by her own flirting.

Dean wanted to snort in exasperation as Sam ducked his head with an 'awe shucks' grin gracing his face. He couldn't believe that his baby brother was falling hook, line and sinker for the little old lady that was perched precariously beside him. Reserving judgment, Dean kept his expression carefully blank as he gave the woman the once over.

Tiny to the point where her feet, encased in a pair of sandals, swung well above the wooden decking, the little woman had a shock of bright white hair that stood up on end all over her head. Her petite frame was decked out in a pair of cream colored slacks and she wore a Hawaiian print shirt that seemed to encompass every color in the rainbow.

"Name's Birdy," the woman said with a smile as she held out a hand in greeting to Dean.

"Dean," he replied, not bothering with a last name, as he took her hand carefully in his. "This is my brother, Sam."

"Pleasure to meet you boys, now dig in," Birdy insisted, pointing toward the tray that sat on the wicker table before them.

Unsure of just what he was supposed to do with the tiny crust-less sandwiches that filled the platter in front of them, Dean instead opted to fill one of the empty glasses from the glass pitcher that was resting on the table. Lifting the ice-tea to his mouth, he lifted an eyebrow at his brother, as Sam hesitatingly chose two of the tiny sandwiches.

"That's cucumber and the other's ham salad," Birdy replied with pride. "I make the best cucumber sandwiches in all of Chautauqua County," she boasted.

"Huh," Sam replied with a faint smile as he took a careful bite of one. "Hm…good," he replied flashing Birdy a small smile.

Dean didn't bother to hold back his grin as he took another long pull from the glass of sweet tea. He had to admit he was surprised when Sam continued to nibble away at the food.

"Come now, Dean, no need to be shy. Dig in," Birdy cried as she hoped spryly off the seat and set about filling a plate for the older hunter.

Well and truly caught, Dean shrugged at his brother's grin and dug in. Given that he'd spent a large part of his life eating out of convenience stores, he was certain his iron stomach could handle a couple sandwiches.

Surprisingly, the food wasn't bad, though he figured he'd have to eat about fifty of the tiny things if he had any hope of filling up. The brothers had driven straight through to Harmony and hadn't bothered to stop for anything more fulfilling than a candy bar all day.

Sooner rather than later, Dean was staring forlornly at the now empty tray. Forcing thoughts of food from his mind, he shifted and turned toward the little lady next to him. "Ms. Birdy, I don't know if Sam mentioned it, but we're only interested in renting for a couple of days."

Birdy waved her hand at Dean's words and laughed, "No worries, not like I'd let anyone from town rent from me. I'd be happy for you boys to use the place."

At Birdy's words, Sam leaned forward, and asked, "Why wouldn't you rent to anyone from town?"

"Bah, their's nothing but fools and poppycock's in this town. I refuse to play their games and they damn well know it."

"Their games?" Dean couldn't help but ask.

"Yup," Birdy, replied proudly. "That damn historical society. They want Birch House gone; claim it's a blight on the neighborhood. A blight! Can you believe that? Why my grandfather built this place for my mother. She lived here nearly 63 years and I was born here."

"They want to demolish the cottage," Sam asked in surprise. "Even though it's that old?"

"They claim it's not dignified enough, as if. Well, they're messing with the wrong woman. They ain't getting their hands on this place until they pull my cold dead body from it."

Impressed by the woman's attitude, Dean leaned back and grinned. "Well alright then, can we see it?"

"You betcha," Birdy cried, clapping her hands as she shimmied off the swing.

Dean gestured for the older woman to go first and then followed her across the porch and around the side of the house. There he followed her down a set of wide steps and around the corner of the house. As he rounded the tiny yellow cottage, he noted what looked like an oversized shed sitting in the back yard.

Filled to overflowing with plants and flowers the backyard was more garden than lawn. Dean could see a stone driveway leading up to the back of the property that he assumed must be accessed by some kind of alley. Parked in the drive was a cream colored antique Cadillac. He couldn't help but admire the car's long lines and chrome grill.

"She's a beaut," he told Birdy, nodding toward the machine.

"That she is, Harold bought old Bessie for me back in '45. Still runs like a champ, though I don't get out in her as much as I used to."

Dean shook his head in amazement as he tried to picture the tiny woman in front of him driving down the street in her boat of a car.

"Now, there's parking back here so you won't have to park on the street. Parking authorities are sticklers for rules. You don't want to end up with a ticket," Birdy called over her shoulder as she began making her way down a brick path.

The path wound through the endless array of flowers, and ended in front of the tiny blue building. While waiting for Birdy to unlock the door, Dean found himself wondering whether his giant of a brother would even be able to stand inside.

"This was originally the garage. We turned it into a suite when my father-in-law took ill. He lived here for nearly fifteen years," she informed them as she held the door open for the men to enter.

Surprisingly, the renovated garage was roomier than it looked from outside; even Sam had no problem standing upright, given the open beam construction. Consisting of one large room there was a tiny kitchenette, a small round table with two chairs and faded floral print couch. Tucked into the far corner were two twin beds decked out in matching bedspreads.

Two doors were set against the opposite wall. Walking up to them, Birdy quickly threw them open and pointed. "Bathroom and closet. It's a bit tight for two, but you'll have more room than you would if you were in a Motel."

The woman had a point, Dean and Sam had stayed in many a smaller place. "This'll do fine. You didn't mention a price in your ad."

At his question, Dean noticed Birdy's bright eyes shrewdly studied the brother's. Feeling her gaze rake over his scuffed boots and faded jeans he couldn't help but stand a little straighter.

"I'll tell you boys what. You pay me what's going rate over at the Motel 6 in Mayville and we'll call is square."

Dean quickly considered the cash he had on him and nodded in agreement. "That'll work," he said as he moved to pull out his wallet.

"No, no," Birdy stated firmly as she began backing out of the room. "We'll square up later. My stories are about to come on and I hate to miss them. Just knock on the back door if'n you find yourselves needing anything."

With these words and a wave of her tiny hand the woman was gone, leaving Dean and Sam to stare at each other in surprise.

"Huh," Sam stated as he moved to watch Birdy make her way back up to the house. "I guess we've got a place to stay."

"Guess so, we're gonna have to get the car and some dinner. Those sandwich thingy's were barely even an appetizer," Dean called out as he headed for the front door. Carefully removing the old-fashioned key that Birdy had left in the door and pocketing it, he headed outside calling over his shoulder, "Food first."

"Works for me," Sam replied as he followed the older hunter outside, pulling the door shut behind him.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

888

Emma stood gaping up at the tiny cottage that sat in front of her. Given the house's nearest neighbors, the cheery yellow clapboard home seemed so cozy and quaint. As she wound her way between the giant birch trees she kept a sharp eye out for the homeowners.

Starting up the wide plank boards of the porch stairs, she stumbled her legs getting tangled in her long skirt. Falling forward, her hands and knees took the brunt of the punishment as she tried to stop her fall. With a huff of breath, she forced herself upright and gathered up the thick folds of her skirt into her left hand.

Forcing herself to focus, Emma started toward the front door being careful to keep her skirt well clear of her feet. She knew she must look like a fool with her skirt pulled up and to the left exposing a good bit of leg, but if it kept the damn thing out of her way then she really didn't care.

Besides, near as she could figure she didn't have to worry too much about her modesty. Like her cell phone and her rental car, gone was the ivory demi-bra and matching silk panties she'd been wearing this morning. In their place she seemed to be wearing some kind of cotton bloomers and a camisole. Consoling herself that she had somehow at least avoided ending up in a corset, she nonetheless bemoaned the loss of her favorite 'undies'.

At the front door Emma found she was no longer surprised to see that the iron scroll work that matched her key and handkerchief also made an appearance in the cottage's doorknob. With a deep breath that served to calm her shaking hands, even if it did little for her pounding heart, Emma slid the key in the lock and turned.

As the lock clicked open, she glanced about nervously. Key or not she couldn't help but feel like an intruder as she turned the knob and eased the door open. "Hello?" she called out as she stepped over the threshold.

Silence was the only response as she entered 'Birch House'.

888

Pushing open the men's room door, Dean gave the local diner they'd found, located just off Main Street, the once over. As he started toward the booth where his shaggy-haired brother sat hunched over his laptop, he relaxed his stance slightly. Given the late hour, he and Sam were the only ones in the restaurant.

Dean had to admit that suited him just fine. Taking in the line of orange colored, formica topped tables he realized that the feeling of impending doom he'd felt earlier on the streets of Harmony hadn't followed him into the restaurant.

As he walked, he appreciated the clean but well-worn black and white tile floor, relishing in the fact that there was nothing historic or charming about 'May's Diner'. In fact the greasy spoon could have been one in a thousand other dives he and his brother had eaten in over their lifetime.

Earlier today as they'd gone to move the car, he had given the Harmony Café that lined the main thoroughfare a glance but quickly decided the idea of eating at one of the tiny wrought iron tables with his back to the local foot traffic would have left him feeling too exposed. Too, one quick glance at the menu had only strengthened his resolution to find somewhere else to eat.

Spying the bacon cheeseburger with a side of French fries he'd ordered, he slipped into the booth with a sigh of pleasure. "See, this is food. Who the hell'd rather have that Sea Bass crap or the Vienna Meat Roll the place down the corner was trying to sell."

Sam looked up with a grin, as he gestured toward the chocolate shake that sat near his elbow. "Wait till you try your shake."

Enjoying the rare grin that lit up his younger brother's face, Dean clapped his hands in appreciation and picked up the oversized burger.

"Here you go, Honey,"

Mouth bulging, Dean winked at the silver-haired waitress that held his much anticipated milk-shake.

With a broad smile, the older woman set down the glass and gestured toward the burger. "There anything else I can get you boys?"

"How about a piece of that pecan pie?" Dean questioned, leaning forward slightly to read the small plastic nametag that graced her chest. "May."

"After all those sandwiches you ate at Birdy's you gonna be able to fit in a piece of pie?" Sam questioned as he tucked into his own burger.

"Are you kidding me? Those things were nothing but a snack." Gesturing toward his plate, Dean grinned in appreciation, "This is real food."

"You boys know Birdy?" The waitress questioned as she stepped away from the table and moved behind the counter.

Dean exchanged a glance with his brother and turned sideways in his seat at the woman's question. Keeping May in sight as she bustled about getting him a piece of pie, Dean weighed his words carefully. He couldn't help but remember Birdy's claims that someone was trying to drive her out of town.

"We actually met her today," he answered carefully.

With a flourish, the waitress added a dollop of cream to the top of Dean's slice of pie and moved back toward the table. "There you are, best pie in town," she said with a wink as she set it on the table. Then without hesitation she snatched a chair out from a nearby table and set it by their booth. Settling in, she stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles and sighed, "Oh, that's nice. I've been on my feet all day."

Exchanging another long look with Sam, Dean gave an infinitesimal shrug and took up his burger once more.

"You know Birdy?" Sam questioned.

"Town like this everyone knows everybody," the woman replied easily. Crossing her arms under her substantial chest she continued, "Birdy and I go way back. Believe it or not she used to fill in here every now and again. Now there's a woman that can bake."

"Birdy used to work here?" Dean asked; glad to see May seemed fond of their new landlord.

"Yup, she was always a deft hand at the breakfast rush," May continued with a sigh, before glancing around at the nearly empty restaurant. "It might not seem like it now, but there was a time we used to do some serious business."

"And now," Sam prompted.

Dean could see by the tiny frown that marred Sam's expression that his brother was in investigation mode. Content to let the young hunter do all the work, Dean took a long sip of his shake.

"Well, you see how it is," May complained. "I'm lucky if I can clear enough money to keep the doors open.

Again the furrowed brow as Sam focused his attention on May. "But the town seems to be doing fine. Lots of tourists."

May waved off Sam's words and continued, "And we used to get our fair share, that is until the historical society made me take down the sign I had up over on Main and Front Streets."

"The historical society?" Dean questioned as he remembered Birdy's earlier complaints about the organization.

"Bah, the sanctimonious bureaucrats told me my sign didn't fit in with their 'vision'," May growled, making air quotes at the word vision.

Turning toward his brother, Dean met Sam's gaze and said, "Huh, kinda like they think Birdy's house doesn't fit in."

"And this society," Sam continued, "who gave them the right to pull down your sign."

May shrugged and shook her head. "They've been up to no good for the last five years. Slowly but surely they've turned downtown Harmony into a 'victorian showcase'," the older woman complained again with air quotes. "They've driven out nearly every business in town that doesn't fit their ideals. "

"Last five years, huh," Dean questioned as he caught his brother's eye and nodded toward the laptop.

Sam didn't need to be told twice. The younger hunter quickly pushed away his half-eaten burger and pulled his computer toward him. Angling it so May wouldn't be able to see the screen, he then began typing away furiously.

Content that Sam was checking into May's story, Dean focused his attention once more on the waitress.

"Give or take, the only ones that haven't caved yet are me, Birdy and old man Baker over at the laundry mat."

"And everyone else just closed down shop or moved on?" Dean questioned.

"Pretty much," May stated flatly. "They can be damn persuasive when they're keeping all your customers away."

"Huh," Dean replied, running through everything the older woman had told them and trying to see if there could be any connection to their missing girl.

At his vague answer, May fidgeted slightly. Dean could clearly read the sudden hesitation in her gaze. Obviously the older woman was worried she might have said too much. Standing she stared hard at the brothers for a moment before waving a hand toward the counter. "That's enough complaining for me, how about I leave you boys to eat in peace."

Before he could say another word, May was off, ducking behind the countertop and continuing into the kitchen.

"Huh," Sam mumbled, his gaze scanning the computer screen in front of him so fast his eyes were blurring slightly. "Okay, this is Main Street in Harmony about five years ago."

Dean picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth with a sigh. Though he knew Sam had a process, he couldn't help but wish his brother would skip the play-by-play and simply admit that there was something seriously off about the town of Harmony.

Dean didn't need the compilation of facts he was sure his brother was even now making note of. The town felt wrong and wrong was enough for Dean.

Over the past couple of years, he had learned to live by instinct. Without Sam's natural caution, and his father's years of experience to lean on, the older hunter had honed his survival skills to a fine point. Left alone when his brother had taken off for school and later as his Dad had begun to disappear more and more often, he'd had little choice in the matter.

"Alright, Sammy, lay it on me," Dean encouraged with a wave of his hand.

Sam nodded and turned the computer screen toward Dean. "Alright, here's the Café where we were parked earlier."

Nodding, Dean inspected the photo, finding it hard to get his bearings. At last he reconciled the view of the street he was now looking at with the map of Main Street he had in his mind. "There's no newsstand," he noted, pointing it out to Sam.

"Right, no newsstand, no sub shop and look at the sidewalks."

Noting the simple concrete sidewalks, Dean frowned and pointed toward a building that rested just inside the frame of the photo. "What's that one say?"

Sam leaned forward, nose nearly touching the screen and read, "Looks like 'checks cashed'."

"Huh," Dean stated, echoing Sam's earlier comment. "So the town's been cleaned up."

"No, Dean, not just cleaned up. It's been totally revamped." Sam again gestured toward the picture. "Look at the houses farther down the block, there's weeds, peeling paint; even the streetlights have been restored since then."

Nodding, he leaned back slightly and waved for Sam to continue.

"Now earlier I was concentrating on finding Emma, but then I got to thinking if this is our kind of thing, then Emma won't have been the only one to disappear in or around Harmony."

"Right," Dean encouraged.

"So I did a search and I came up with over twenty names of people that have disappeared inside this county."

"Twenty," Dean repeated in surprise.

"Yup, now that's over a span of thirty-five years. I was going to take it back farther, but now given May's story I'm wondering if all that matters is the last five."

Not liking the direction of Sam's words, Dean grimaced, "Just spit it out, Sam. How many?"

"Sixteen, Dean. Out of the twenty people total that have gone missing in Chautauqua County over the last thirty years, sixteen of them have gone missing within the last five years."

"Fun little town you got here, Sammy."

888

Now that she was standing inside the house, Emma found she had no clue what to do next. Her earlier headache had returned with a vengeance and she couldn't help but wonder if her trip back in history didn't have something to do with that. Maybe she wasn't really in Harmony, wandering some strange house; maybe she was actually lying in a coma in some hospital somewhere.

Feeling slightly cheered by the idea that this whole ridiculous mess might be a figment of her imagination or the by-product of a massive brain trauma, Emma gazed about taking in the warm mahogany colored hard-wood floors that welcomed her into the cozy home. For some reason, the place felt right to Emma in a way that the rest of the town hadn't.

There was something to be said about the warm room she now found herself in. The open beamed ceiling drew her in giving the home a rustic touch that fit well with the deep red walls and heavy wood trim. On the wall opposite of where she stood there was a beautiful fireplace. Surrounded by wood a shade darker than the floors, there was a framed mirror above the mantel that reflected the rich color of the walls.

Facing the fireplace sat a gold striped couch with wood detail. Drawn in by the room's beauty, Emma lightly ran her hand down the couch's frame marveling at the detail carved into the woodwork. Flanked by a couple of chairs covered in a muted red velvet, the fireplace was obviously the focal point of the room.

Glancing about the room, taking in the finer details, Emma couldn't help but feel as if something were missing. It wasn't until she moved to stand in front of the fireplace that it occurred to her just what was missing. In nearly any house in modern America today Emma should have been able to find a T.V. However, Birch House seemed to have no electronics.

Now actively searching, Emma began looking for any sign that might give her a clue as to where she was. Or, she thought with a shiver, more accurately when she was.

No laptop to be found sitting on a coffee table. No corner cabinet with a stereo system hidden within. Not so much as an mp3 player sitting out on an end table. No remotes, no batteries, no telephones or charging cords.

Dropping at last onto the couch, Emma dropped her hands into her head with a groan. "That's it," she muttered to herself, "I'm officially insane."

The sound of her own voice helped to clear away some of the fog that kept threatening to overwhelm her. Muttering to herself she began running through exactly what she could remember before she'd awoken to her current nightmare.

"Stayed at the Red Roof Inn," she began as she forced herself to stand. "Wake up call at seven-thirty, continental breakfast in the lobby."

Leaving the living room, she moved through a surprisingly spacious and well-appointed dining room. "Waffles with strawberries, coffee with cream and two sugars."

Intent on the kitchen, she could just make out through the dining room, Emma continued only briefly pausing to notice again the lack of electronics. "On the road by eight-fifteen; stopped for gas by ten-thirty just outside of Harmony."

At this point in her timeline, Emma had a harder time recalling just what had happened. Entering the kitchen she took in the sight of a large rectangular wooden box that sat next to the back door. Noting the handles she approached the piece and pulled, shocked to feel the cold that poured from inside. Sitting on the shelves was an array of food, everything from produce to what appeared to be half of a cheese round.

Snapping the ice-box's door closed, Emma pressed her fingers to her forehead and applied pressure. "Gas," she muttered, "I stopped for gas and then drove up Main Street."

The pain in her head now strong enough to bring tears to her eyes; dropping to the wood floor she drew her knees up to her chest. "Down Main Street, there was a sign. Sign said…"

Nauseas to the point that she was certain she was going to be sick, she eased down until she lay curled up, the cool wood pressed against her cheek. Shutting her eyes, she focused on ignoring the pain and breathed, "the gallery. I was in the gallery…"

888

"Alright let me get this straight. We've got sixteen missing people that we know of, one of which is our girl Emma. A historical society that's intent on driving out the undesirables—"

"Undesirables, Dean?" Sam questioned with a smirk without bothering to look up from his computer.

"And…," Dean continued drawing out the word.

"And what?" Sam asked at last as his brother's voice trailed off.

With a smack, Dean's long-fingered hand suddenly slapped down on the computer, shutting it with a bang. "Earth to Sam?"

Attention now firmly fixed on his brother; Sam lifted one eyebrow and growled, "What?"

"I need something more here, Sam, you know like something I can shoot, or dig up."

Running a hand through his thick dark hair, Sam shrugged and nodded toward the laptop that Dean's hand still rested on. "Yeah, well I don't have more."

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes as his older brother suddenly jumped to his feet, dropped a handful of bills on the table, and shrugged into his coat. "Let's get out of here."

Following, Sam gathered up his bag and quickly tucked his computer away. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that moving sounded like as good a plan as any. Though he'd done all of the normal searches he'd been unable to uncover anything else odd about the town of Harmony.

A favorite vacation spot; over the years the small town had become extremely prosperous by showcasing its authentic Victorian homes and quaint business'.

Near as Sam could tell there'd been no weird deaths, no unexplained accidents, and no signs of anything out of the ordinary for the last thirty-five years. Well, anything except the number of missing persons in a county that had less than hundred thousand people in it to begin with.

Without really paying attention, Sam caught up to Dean, enjoying the first few deep breaths he took in of the chill night air. Content to just be moving, he automatically slowed his long-legged pace to better match his brother's. "You know it's possible this is all just crap. I mean there are absolutely no supernatural markers anywhere in this town."

For one long moment as the headed back toward Main Street, his brother said not a word. At last, Sam noted the older man reached up and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"It's not nothing. That much I know for sure."

Ready to play devil's advocate, Sam opened his mouth to argue, when a sudden feeling of unease caused him to study their surroundings with more caution. Glancing about, trying to find just what had set his instincts into overdrive, he again noticed Dean's agitation.

To anyone that didn't know his older brother, Dean would have looked at ease. However, in spite of the dim light provided by the gas lantern street lights, Sam could see the slight tensing around his brother's eye and the way his hand hovered near his side. Secure in the knowledge that Dean was fully aware of their current threat, Sam's own tension eased.

As they continued to make their way down Main, Sam couldn't help but wonder at just how warped his and Dean's relationship was. They had to be the only set of siblings in the world that when one of them became more tense the other relaxed. It was like nature had made them compliments of each other in order to keep the world from having to deal with two pissed off Winchesters in any given moment.

With a snort, Sam slowed even more and turned back, his gaze scanning the street behind them.

"What?"

Grinning weakly, he shook his head and gestured toward the surrounding darkness. "Our lives are so warped."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, kiddo," Dean assured him as he shouldered Sam into motion once more.

Giving into the shoulder that Dean shoved his way, Sam picked up his pace. They were out of the business district and well into the residential neighborhood, when the younger hunter suddenly realized that he'd drawn ahead of his brother. Slowing his pace, he was about to call out when a feeling like not unlike a finger ghosting its way down his spine, caused him to snap his mouth closed.

"Feel that," Sam questioned, though given the tension that was rolling off his brother, he didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Where's it coming from."

Trying to hone in on just what had set off his own spidey sense, Sam turned studying the street and surrounding houses until at last he found himself looking at a huge Victorian home that seemed to stand out from all the rest. Noticing that his brother was also studying the home went a long way toward reassuring Sam that he'd spotted the threat, even if it did nothing to alleviate his unease.

The property's well maintained lawn was sprawling with none of the wildness that had marked Birdy's gardens. A series of low bushes and neatly trimmed trees fronted the wide porch that wrapped around to the right of the house. A set of wide steps led up under the porch roof and into the shadows. Though it was difficult to pick out in the dark the house looked to be a deep salmon color, trimmed in white. A huge bright red brick chimney rose up two stories on the right and ornate scroll woodwork touched every gable and angle on the building giving the home a stately appearance.

All in all the effect left Sam feeling cold. While he knew he should have been impressed by the obvious craftsmanship that had gone into the building, he instead repressed a shudder at the feeling of wrongness that seemed to emanate from the home.

"Huh, well that's creepy," Dean stated baldly, obviously picking up on the same vibe.

"You can say that," Sam confirmed, trying to pick out just what the threat might be. It was then his sharp gaze picked up on a sign that sat just before the porch steps. Nodding toward the marker, Sam asked, "You read that?"

Squinting, Dean gazed long and hard at the wooden sign before at last nodding. "Think it says Harmony Gallery."

Sam shook his head and tried sharpening his own gaze. "Nah, can't be. First thing I checked when we hit town was to look for any art galleries seeing as Emma Stone was on a buying trip."

"Yeah, well you missed something 'cause that says gallery," Dean insisted as he began to get closer to the imposing structure.

Still shaking his head in the negative, Sam followed right up until the foot of the walkway that crossed the green lawn. It wasn't until he stood there at the base of the property that he accepted his brother's words. "Huh, guess I missed it."

Dean turned with a grin, and again nudged Sam into motion. "Yeah, well it was bound to happen someday, not even the great Sam Winchester can catch everything."

Uneasy at putting his back to the business, Sam couldn't help but complain, "If you think you can do better…"

Dean shrugged theatrically and picked up his pace. "No thanks, job's all yours. We'll have to come back in the morning, check the place out."

Sam nodded in agreement, looking back over his shoulder once more at the shadow that was all he could now make out of the gallery. Another nudge to his shoulder, and Sam picked up his pace, once again matching Dean stride for stride.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

888

With a groan for the stiffness that encompassed her entire body, Emma forced her eyes open and tried to make sense of her surroundings. With her cheek pressed against the oak wood floor, the young redhead couldn't help the frown that marred her expression. Leveling herself up, she swiped at the line of moisture that had collected at the corner of her mouth.

As Emma gained her feet, every muscle in her body protested the movement. It was obvious by the bright morning sunshine that flooded the room, she'd somehow managed to spend the night on the hard wood floor. With a last shake of her head to clear away the sleep that still clouded her mind, she moved sluggishly toward the kitchen range.

With a clatter she checked the fire box, and groaned in complaint to find the stove dead cold. Resigning herself to the fact that if she wanted a cup of tea, she was going to have to get moving, she quickly picked up the kindling from the box by the stove and began to lay a fire.

Within minutes she had a cheery blaze going. Satisfied for the moment, she allowed the range to heat and headed for the back door. Heading outside, she took a moment to appreciate the warm spring morning before heading down the porch, following a well-worn path through the garden.

Quickly and efficiently, Emma used the pine outhouse that sat back by the edge of the property. As she began to make her way back toward the house, she took note of the weeds that were forcing their way up through her vegetable patch. Making a mental note to add gardening to her list of chores for the day, she started back up the wooden steps and entered the kitchen.

Satisfied that the stove was indeed heating, Emma added water and coffee to her red and white speckled enamel pot and set it on a burner. Heading out of the kitchen she quickly made her way upstairs to her bedroom.

It took only moments for her to wash at the basin that sat on the washstand and to quickly shed the red calico set she'd fallen asleep in. As she opened her armoire to choose an outfit, she pushed away any worries as to why she'd woken up on the kitchen floor. The manageable but steady ache in her head made it easy to keep from delving into her memory. Right now, food and coffee were top on her list. She figured everything else could wait.

Choosing a serviceable navy skirt and white blouse set, Emma quickly shrugged into a fresh camisole and pantaloons. Once dressed, she took a moment to run a brush through her long red hair before quickly twisting it up into a neat but attractive twist. A glance in the mirror that hung above the washstand showed that she looked more than presentable. The only tell-tale sign of her strange night's sleep was her slightly shadowed eyes.

Satisfied, Emma left her room, her intention to enjoy a cup of coffee and a bit of breakfast out on the porch before the day's heat really began. Making her way down the stairs once more she began to make a plan of attack for the weed's overrunning her garden.

888

"Let's go, Sam, I wanna get a bite to eat before we hit that gallery," Dean yelled with a knock on the bathroom door.

He and his brother had already been up for over an hour. Sam had spent the time trying to see if he could locate any information on the Harmony Gallery, while Dean had busied himself by going over their supplies. Since he had no clue what they were up against, he set about preparing himself for anything.

Stomach growling, Dean again pounded on the bathroom door. "You're killing me here, Sam."

As he was about to hit the door once more, it opened and Dean found himself face to face with an irate looking Sam.

"Are you really that hungry?" his younger brother snapped as he sidled past Dean and dropped his dirty clothes on the bed farthest from the door.

"Yes," Dean cried out, hands held out in prayer and knees bent. "Now let's go."

Sam smiled over his brother's antics, grabbed his laptop case and gestured toward the front door. "Waiting on you."

Smiling broadly, Dean slipped out the front door and took a moment to appreciate the beautiful spring morning. Birdy's backyard was like some kind of paradise. As he took in the riot of blooming flowers, miniature fruit trees and a neatly laid out vegetable garden he found himself wondering just how the older woman kept up with it all.

"Yoo hoo, Boys!"

Wincing a bit at being caught, Dean turned with a slight smile to wave at Birdy who was perched upon the back porch. The older woman was gesturing toward a wicker table set with plates.

"Just smile and wave, Sammy, no stopping," Dean ordered through gritted teeth, as he headed toward the house. While he appreciated the trouble the older woman had gone to, nothing less than a full lumberjack breakfast was going to fill him up today.

"Come on," Sam whispered, "We can't just blow her off. She's made breakfast."

As he neared the porch, Dean's keen gaze swept over the white wicker table. Noting the small pile of toast, a couple of grapefruit halves and a small plate of sausages, he couldn't help but groan. Pasting a smile on his face he nodded at Birdy and said, "Morning, we were just headed out."

"Nonsense, growing boys need a hearty breakfast to start their day," Birdy insisted as she perched upon one of the wicker chairs and began dividing the sausages between plates.

Well and truly caught, Dean sat with a huff and accepted his plate from the older woman. Staring down at the three sausage links, half of a grapefruit and two slices of toast he smiled weakly and murmured his thanks.

"Now how about something hot to drink," The tiny birdlike woman asked.

Noticing the ceramic pot by her side, Dean suddenly perked up as visions of a cup of coffee danced in his head. Holding out the tiny china cup that was sitting by his place setting, he was dismayed to see nothing but water come out of the carafe.

"Regular or decaf," Birdy asked, holding up two containers of tea bags.

Gazing at Birdy's bright smile, Dean at last gave up in defeat and plucked one of the regular tea bags from the tiny box the older woman held. Grimacing slightly, he dropped the tea bag into his cup of hot water and picked up a piece of toast. Noticing what looked like a jar of homemade jelly on the table, he ignored his brother's snide grin and worked to take the lid off.

"Strawberry," Birdy piped up. "I make it myself." Perched upon a handful of cushions she smiled and picked up her own cup of tea. "I heard you boys stopped off at May's place last night."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yeah, we stopped in for a bite. She mentioned that business is a bit slow."

"Hmpf," Birdy snorted indignantly, "Slow's one word, downright dead's another."

Groaning in pleasure from his first bite of toast and jam, Dean quickly speared a piece of sausage and popped it in his mouth. Though Birdy's breakfast might leave him feeling hungry in twenty minutes he had to admit the woman had skills.

Nodding in approval of Dean's obvious pleasure, Birdy continued, "It's like I was telling you boys, that damn woman is going to be the ruin of this town. "

Sam arched an eyebrow in surprise at Dean as he questioned the tiny woman, "You didn't mention a woman."

"Well of course I did. Rachel Hodges, the old witch."

Again Sam shot Dean a look of confusion. Certain that Birdy never mentioned any specific names, Dean reminded her, "You mentioned the…uh, historical society, but never any names."

Dean's words did nothing to appease the now clearly upset woman. Perched as she was on a pile of cushions, her hands fluttering in agitation he could easily see where she'd gotten her nickname.

"Talk about the historical society and you're talking about that old biddy. Ever since she showed up in this town, the whole place has gone to pot."

Despite the fact that the town seemed perfect in every way, Dean couldn't help but understand just what Birdy meant. He still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something seriously wrong with the little Victorian town.

"What'd you mean showed up?" Sam questioned.

"Well, it's not as if she's a native. She showed up about oh…five, maybe six years ago. Back then we didn't even have a historical society."

"Five years ago, huh," Sam commented, his gaze locked with Dean's for one long moment.

Dean nodded slightly letting his brother know that he'd picked up on the time-line; five years ago, when people started disappearing in Chautauqua County. "So Birdy, when you say this Hodges woman's a witch you mean she's a …"

"A bitch," Birdy stated firmly. "She's put the fear of god into the whole town and now there's no one left to gainsay her but May and I and we're just a couple of little old ladies."

At Birdy's plain speech, Dean couldn't hold back his grin, exchanging smiles with his brother, he asked, "And where could we find this woman?"

"Find, her, now why would two good boys like you want anything to do with that woman. Before you know it she'll have you suckered in."

Hiding a smile, Dean nodded gravely. "We're not that easy to dupe. Where's this historical society meet?"

Birdy waved a hand toward the street. "Main Street, the old Harmony House, but I'm telling you boys, nothing good will come of you going there."

"Birdy, we wanted to ask, we're here in town looking for a friend of ours. We were wondering if you'd seen her," Sam asked as he reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. Pulling out the now familiar photo of Emma Stone he handed the picture to the woman.

Dean didn't need to see the photo to know what it contained. He'd studied the picture of the red-head enough times to be more than familiar with her heart-shaped face and bright green gaze.

Studying the photo for a moment, Birdy at last sat back and shook her head. "I don't recognize her, you said she's missing?"

Sam nodded, and tucked the picture back into his wallet. "We know she stopped here in town, but there's been no sign of her since."

"She's a friend of yours?" Birdy asked softly.

Nodding, Dean added, "We have to find her."

"You won't," Birdy said with conviction. "I'm sorry, but if she went missing in Harmony, there's no finding her."

Surprised by the older woman's answer, Dean leaned forward. "Oh, we'll find her. We always do."

Dean could only hope they'd find her in one piece. Gesturing to Sam to finish up, Dean looked down at his plate surprised to find he'd cleaned it of anything edible. Shoving back his seat, he rose to his feet. "Thanks for breakfast."

As his brother rose to join him, Birdy hopped to her feet, wringing her tiny hands she cried out, "Please boys, don't go to the gallery. You stay well away from that place. Something's not right up there and getting yourselves…lost…won't do that poor girl any good."

"Lost?" Sam asked as he stood.

Shaking her head, Birdy took a step back and remained silent.

Nodding at his brother, Dean started down the steps, his brother hot on his heels. The brother's

were circling the house when Birdy's sudden cry broke the morning's stillness.

"Stay away, Boys! Just stay away."

888

Emma knelt on the fresh wood shavings that lined the path, and stretched to reach the few weeds that had begun to sprout in the rich dark soil of her garden. Humming contentedly, she at last deemed the section she was working on was finished. Sitting back on her heels, she tilted her head up happy to feel the warm spring sunshine touching her face.

With a sigh of contentment, she opened her eyes at last and cast a judicial eye about the garden. Only a half-hour of weeding and the place was looking better already. Promising herself a cool glass of tea after another half-hour, Emma shifted to a new section of ground.

As she moved a bright flash of light caught her eye sending a blinding pain through her head. Uncaring that her gloved hands were filthy, Emma reached up squeezing her head as the pain tried to rip her apart. Gasping, the young woman leaned forward, her stomach threatening to lose the breakfast she'd enjoyed only an hour ago.

Bending forward, she pressed her head against the cool paving stones and sucked in breath after breath. After what seemed like hours but was probably closer to fifteen minutes, the pain finally began to ease. Taking a couple more deep breaths for good measure, the redhead at last pushed herself upright.

Confusion fogged Emma's brain as she took in her position sitting on a sidewalk in the middle of someone's garden. Glancing about she noticed the tiny yellow cottage that she'd entered earlier behind her. Unable to remember just how she'd ended up outside she gained her feet and walked on unsteady legs toward the stairs that led up to the back porch. Once there she dropped down, quickly putting her head between her knees at the dizziness that threatened to topple her.

Sitting, bent at the waist, it was then she took a good look at what she was wearing. As she perused the dark skirt and white shirt, Emma couldn't stop the tears that flooded her eyes. The last thing she could clearly remember had been falling to the kitchen floor. Now here she was sitting in a patch of what could only be early morning sunshine, wearing a new set of clothes and a pair of gloves that looked as if she'd been digging through the dirt.

This was twice now that she'd suffered from a blackout. Each time she'd awoken with no recollection of where she was or what had happened. The idea that she was losing huge chunks of time to some kind of fugue state was enough to send her stumbling toward a clump of bushes where she promptly lost the contents in her stomach.

Wiping a hand across her mouth, she quickly made her way back toward the stairs and collapsed in a heap, tears rolling down her face.

888

"What's the score, Sammy?"

Sam looked up from the microfilm he was perusing to find his brother leaning against the library table a slight frown marring his features.

"Well, Birdy was right on the timeframe. The first victim disappeared two months after the Harmony Historical Society was started. Seems as if the esteemed Mrs. Rachel Hodges began the group in a bid to counter what she felt was the 'loss of our national history'."

"Huh, and this Hodges woman, she just showed up out of nowhere?"

"Seems like," Sam said, tapping his pen against his notebook. "I can't find record of a Rachel Hodges anywhere before she ended up in Harmony."

"So, this woman just shows up out of nowhere and decides she's going to save the town from mini-marts and adult bookstores."

"Pretty much," Sam agreed. "So, what'd you find out?"

"Well, she might be a bitch, but she's definitely not a witch," Dean said with a grin. Nodding at Sam to clean up the older hunter began walking toward the exit.

Sam quickly gathered up his gear and followed, his long stride automatically shortening as he came abreast of his brother. "You're sure?" He questioned absently without any real heat. He of all people knew just how good his brother was at the job.

Dean held up a hand and began ticking off points. "No signs of a coven, no unexplainable fortunes or losses, not even a good old-fashion love triangle. Nothing that would indicate there's a witch operating nearby."

"You know there's a chance that none of this is connected," Sam said without conviction. While he didn't know what the connection was yet, it was too much to hope that the disappearances and this woman's appearance in town had nothing to do with each other. He'd stopped believing in coincidences long ago.

Focusing suddenly on the direction they were taking, Sam couldn't help but question, "Maybe we should hold off talking with her until we get a better handle on what's going on."

Leading the way down Main Street, Dean pointed toward where the gallery sat looming over the quiet street. "Let's just get a look at the place. Maybe scope it out for a bit; see who's coming or going."

"Fine, but promise you won't go anywhere near this woman till we get a handle on what she is," Sam demanded, slowing his pace.

Dean, ever the big brother, automatically slowed his pace matching Sam's slow crawl. "I thought you didn't believe there was a connection."

"Yeah, well, let's be honest, there's always a connection," Sam said on a sigh.

As his brother slowed keeping even with Sam, the younger hunter couldn't help but grin. He was pretty certain Dean wasn't even aware of the fact that he had set his pace to match Sam's.

When they'd been kids, slogging through countless hunting trips over rough terrain or even at times busy city streets, Dean's dogged determination to keep pace with Sam had annoyed their father to no end.

John Winchester was of the mind that if Sam was lagging behind, then Sam needed to move faster. However, if the pace was too fast for Dean, their old man always relented and slowed. After all, not even their father had the nerve to suggest that Dean was giving anything less than his absolute best.

It was bittersweet moments like these when he realized just what had been missing from his life for the last couple of years. Before he'd left his family, he would have felt stifled by his brother's action. Now, however, given the last couple of months, Sam couldn't help but be comforted by the idea that no matter what, Dean would never allow him to fall behind.

As they reached the shadows cast by the gallery, Sam took comfort in the feel of his brother's shoulder brushing against his own.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

888

"So, are you boys looking for something special?" Rachel Hodges asked as she gestured for Sam and Dean to follow her.

Certain that his brother was too absorbed in finding any sign of threat to answer, Sam quickly spoke up, "Uh, yeah. Our mom's a real art fan and we were looking to pick something up for her."

"Your Mom?" Mrs. Hodges questioned with a slight smile. "Of course, well there's plenty to pick from. Under my care, Harmony House has become a real showcase."

"I can see that," Sam nodded, "This building is really something."

As she glanced about the renovated Victorian, Rachel Hodges nodded with obvious pride. "It's the second oldest home in town. I oversaw the renovations myself."

"Second oldest?" Dean questioned, his bright green gaze scanning the room's interior.

His brother's question must have struck a chord with the art director. Sam watched as she drew in a deep breath and admitted with a frown.

"There's a home over on Front Street that was built about six months before Harmony House."

"Would that be Birch House?" Sam questioned, watching the older woman carefully to gauge her response.

Pursing her already thin lips, Mrs. Hodges went on the defensive. "Unfortunately, as…sweet as Birdy is, she's incapable of fully understanding just what an opportunity we have here in Harmony."

Sam was proud when Dean managed to listen to the curator's words with only a slight sneer. Still, Dean being Dean, he was unable to completely ignore the thinly veiled insult.

"Oh, I'm certain that Birdy's aware of a lot of things."

Sam watched as one of Mrs. Hodges silver brows arched at Dean's snide tone. Not ready to be told to vacate the premises just yet, Sam shifted slightly stepping in between his brother and the silver haired woman. "What opportunity are you referring to? "

For one long moment, Sam didn't think the president of the historical society was planning on answering him. She'd locked gazes with his brother and it was clear to Sam, she was regretting her impromptu offer of a tour of the gallery. Finally, though, she settled for a thin smile and turned her attention back to Sam.

"Why the opportunity to maintain Harmony's purity, of course," she recited with a ridiculous amount of pep. She even went so far as to drop the brothers a wink as she waved one long fingered hand to encompass the building they stood in. "Thanks to the work of the historical society this town is an exact replica of what it was back in the early nineteen hundreds."

"And that's a good thing?" Dean sneered, again drawing the older woman's attention.

"Of course it is. Look around you, we've created perfection."

At his brother's comment, Rachel Hodges enthusiastic tone never faltered, her eyes however, were another matter. Watching the older woman study his brother as if the older man were an insect pinned to a board, sent a shudder down Sam's long frame. He couldn't help but be thankful that he'd allowed Dean to bully him into bringing the gun that was now tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

Apparently, Dean didn't feel any such hesitation at the 'buckets of crazy' that was now staring avidly at him. The other hunter took a long exaggerated look around the room before bringing his gaze back to Rachel Hodges. "If this is what perfection looks like, then I for one want nothing to do with it."

Eyes narrowed, the thin woman dropped every hint of civility as she sneered openly allowing her gaze to start at the tips of Dean's well-worn work boots and work their way up the narrow line of his worn jeans. Taking in his brother's faded tee-shirt and leather jacket the woman raised one eyebrow. "I can see that."

Certain they'd get nothing out of the woman now, Sam nudged Dean with his elbow and tried a last ditch effort to learn something useful. "I guess my brother's more of a big-city kind of guy," he offered hoping his smile looked more genuine than it felt.

"Hmpf," the older woman snorted before running her hands down the vintage skirt and blouse set she was wearing. "Yes, well some people are born without vision. That's why groups like our historical society are so important."

As Mrs. Hodges opened her mouth to begin what Sam could only assume was a list of the historical societies many virtues, he cut her off, "You must get a lot of tourist trade through here?"

"Of course, there are many who find the town charming and welcoming," the rail-thin woman said with a sniff in Dean's direction. "Why since the society's founding, Harmony's become something of a haven to those that wish to escape to a simpler time."

"I'm sure," Dean snorted as he nodded toward Sam. "But we're looking for one person in particular. A good friend of ours, we think she may have stopped in here."

Sam didn't need his brother's raised brow to have him remove the picture he'd been carrying of Emma. Holding it out to Rachel Hodges, he kept his gaze peeled to the older woman in hopes of catching some sign of recognition.

Unfortunately, he was disappointed to see not a glimmer cross the older woman's expression. Either she was one hell of an actress or Emma had never set foot in the gallery. Given Rachel Hodges earlier Sybil reenactment, Sam was pretty certain it was the former.

"I don't recognize her, though if she was just passing thru, there's little reason for me to have come into contact with her.

Frustration surged through Sam as he glanced about. Taking in the paintings that hung strategically throughout the building, he racked his brain trying to come up with some way to shake the older woman's confidence.

"Maybe you ought to take another look," Dean ordered in a no-nonsense tone. Grabbing the picture out of Sam's hand, he thrust it toward the older woman. "After all, she was an art buyer and you've got art to sell. It stands to reason, if anyone met her, it would have been you."

888

Rachel Hodges didn't bother to hide her contempt for the two men facing her. They were fools if they believed their arrival in Harmony hadn't been noticed. Absolutely nothing went on in this town that she didn't know about.

Even if she disregarded their outlandish car, and ratty clothing, their stay at Birch House was enough to cause her to consider them trouble. Add to that the fact that they insisted on giving May Browning their business had Rachel planning on a little meet and greet with the men long before they'd shown up this morning.

Ushering them into her home, much like the spider to the fly, had been almost too easy. Content that her façade was impenetrable, she'd led the men deeper and deeper into Harmony house. Schooling herself to patience hadn't been easy, but then at her age, she figured she'd earned the right to get a little persnickety when taunted.

That they were mocking her was never in doubt. The disdain she read in the older man's clear green gaze was obvious, even if the youth was a bit better at disguising his. Determined to have the last laugh, Rachel sighed deeply and again regarded the picture they were holding of Emma Stone.

Really, Rachel should have known that the young art dealer's disappearance would come back to haunt her. After all, she normally never would have touched a woman like that if it hadn't been for Emma's complete and absolute disdain for the works of art that graced the halls of Harmony house. It was obvious the younger woman had no real talent for spotting true artistry.

Moving toward the draped canvas that sat in the corner of the room, Rachel was careful to hide her smile as the two young men blindly followed. Gesturing toward the photo now held by the shorter of the two, she shook her head and offered, "You know, now that I really look at the picture I think I did meet her. Nice girl from some fancy New York Gallery."

888

Dean's view of the older woman was suddenly blocked by his hulk of a brother as Sam stepped in front of him. Cursing the youth's eagerness, he reached out, wrapping a hand around his baby brother's bicep with the intention of yanking him backward.

Though the older woman had been giving him the heebie-jeebies ever since they'd entered the building, his weird-o-meter had suddenly shot up about a mile at Rachel Hodges' admittance that Emma had indeed stepped foot inside of the Harmony Gallery.

"How about I show you the painting she was interested in," the old woman intoned only a moment before the galleries track lighting began to flicker.

At the sight of the lights doing their own version of a disco, Dean went for his gun, jerking back the hand that gripped Sam. The younger man was unprepared for the action, allowing Dean to nearly topple all six-foot-four of him. Without sparing a glance for his brother; he instead, raised his gun and focused his bright green gaze on the object of his anger.

"Stop right there, Bitch," he snarled.

Ignoring his order, the older woman made like a grey-haired Houdini, whipping the cover off of the artwork that sat on an easel next to her. Almost against his will, Dean's focus was suddenly pinned to the painting. Unable to tear his gaze away from an exact replica of Harmony house; Dean felt a numbness begin in his toes before quickly making its way up his jean-clad legs.

As the numbness reached his hands, causing him to drop his .45, Dean managed to grind out one last order, before succumbing to the inevitable.

"Run, Sa—"

888

One moment, Sam was moving toward the older woman intent on getting the truth from her and the next thing he knew Dean's steady grip was holding him back. He very nearly snapped at the older hunter's interference when Rachel Hodges crazed smile suddenly registered. That, plus the Galleries' impromptu light display had him thinking his brother was right about the need for some caution.

Unfortunately, the hard-headed hunter apparently thought only Sam needed to show some restraint, as he suddenly jerked the younger hunter's arm, causing him to lose his footing and to stumble sideways into a plinth complete with a now toppling pottery bowl. Without thinking Sam threw out his hands nimbly catching the piece before it could hit the floor.

"Stop right there, Bitch."

With his back to the scene unfolding behind him, Sam felt as much as heard the sudden thread of unease that punctuated Dean's words. Every instinct screaming at him to move, Sam twisted to face his brother, only to hear, the older man's order.

"Run, Sa—"

That it was an order, Sam didn't doubt for a moment. That his brother was in trouble was also clear as he turned to face his brother. Only Dean no longer stood behind him. In fact his brother was nowhere in the room. Sam's gaze swept the area finding only the curator and no sign of Dean. Focusing on the woman, Sam took a step closer intending to beat the whereabouts of his brother from the woman if necessary, when the picture she was standing in front of suddenly caught his eye.

Rooted to the sport, his gaze focused on the oil painting that sat encased in a weathered frame, Sam at first took no notice of the numbness that was steadily making its way up his legs. It was only as his hands clenched around the earthen pottery he still held, that he even realized what was happening. Still unable to tear his gaze away, Sam suddenly chucked the bowl toward the painting with enough force to topple the easel it rested upon.

The moment he broke eye contact, a tingling began in his toes and raced up his legs setting his lower limbs on fire. Still he knew he'd take the pins-and-needles feeling over his earlier numbness any day.

Determination to find his brother got him moving and Rachel Hodges sudden stunned expression gave him a destination to focus on. He was only inches from the older woman, his hands going up to grip her arms when she let loose a cry that was loud enough to make him flinch.

"Timmy!"

Turning quickly, Sam expected to see some hulking beast striding into the gallery's showroom. Instead he found a gangly youth who looked no older than himself. Confident he could take the kid if necessary; the young hunter held up his hands and warned, "Back away, kid. I just want my brother back."

Despite Sam's best imitation of his older brother's growl, the kid didn't back off. Instead, he lunged toward Sam with a rasping growl. Faced with Timmy's near blind range, he stepped back, working to keep the youth off balance.

His plan didn't work completely as the man's fist caught Sam in the jaw, leveling him with a punch that left the young hunter's ears ringing. Shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs, he gained his feet in one quick motion and squared off with the kid. This time he made no offer of peace, instead he gestured at the youth, daring him to come at him with one hand.

The kid took the bait, lunging forward in a clumsy move that allowed, Sam to neatly sidestep. An added elbow to the back sent the lumbering youth into the plaster wall of Harmony House.

Wincing slightly at the sickening sound of the kid's head making contact with the plaster, Sam turned his focus toward where he'd last seen Rachel Hodges. One glance showed the woman was gone, as was the framed painting she'd unveiled earlier. A feeling of unease ghosted over the back of his neck as he turned back toward the wall only to find that 'Timmy' had also disappeared.

"Dean!" Sam tried, forcing himself to stillness as he focused on hearing his brother. "Dean!"

Forcing back thoughts of Emma and all the others who had disappeared from the small town, Sam drew his gun and left the showroom determined to find his brother.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

888

"Guh," Dean groaned, one hand easing up to his head. Gingerly running his hand through his short sandy-blond hair, he was surprised to find no sign of blood or even a welt that would explain the pounding in his head.

Taking stock of the rest of his body, he found none of the normal side effects that a night of binge drinking could be blamed for the killer headache that had him clenching his eyes shut in pain.

Confusion swamped the hunter as he tried to recall just what had happened in the last few moments. As his hand pressed against what felt like cobblestones, he found himself suddenly wondering if the esteemed Mrs. Hodges had had him tossed onto the sidewalk out front of Harmony House.

Forcing his eyes open, he levered himself up, while calling out for his brother. "Sam?"

Sam's lack of reply had Dean scanning the area despite the desperate wish that he could simply sink back down onto the cool paving stones and surrender to the pain. Instead, he took note of and dismissed the crowd of strangers that ringed him loosely and again called for his brother, "Sammy?"

Silence was Dean's only answer, raising his level of panic to an even higher notch. "Sam!"

"Oh, you poor, Dear. Tell me you're okay?" an older woman called out as she approached Dean, her hands held out in supplication. "That was a terrible tumble you took."

Confusion clouded Dean's mind as he tried to make sense of the woman's words. "Fall?"

The formidable looking woman nodded firmly and made a shooing gesture toward the strangers that crowded around them. "Alright you lot, get gone, there's nothing left to see."

As the crowd dispersed, Dean felt some of his earlier tension disappear. "Thanks," he muttered even as he again turned in a slow circle trying to find some sign of his missing brother.

"Here, Dear, why don't you come set a spell," the woman insisted, tugging gently but firmly on Dean's elbow as she led him toward the outdoor café he'd snubbed his nose at earlier in the week. Pulling out a chair from the tiny table, she then waved a hand at a nearby busboy. "Timmy, some water for the young man."

Working hard to hide the pain that was still pounding against the inside of his skull, Dean steadied his stance and ignored the chair. "Thanks," he growled as he accepted the glass of water the reed-thin young man offered him.

"Now tiny sips mind you so it doesn't come back up," the woman warned as Dean lifted the glass to drink.

Rolling his eyes at the old woman's order, Dean took a sip, relishing the feel as the cool water slid down his throat. Feeling almost ridiculously better, Dean quickly drained the glass in one long swallow.

"Thanks," he muttered as he rubbed a hand across his mouth.

"No worries, Dear, what kind of woman would I be if I didn't offer a bit of kindness to a stranger."

The woman stared hard at Dean, her grey-eyed stare boring into him as she appeared to be waiting for a reply. Unsure of what was expected, Dean hesitatingly offered, "…I'm Dean…"

Obviously he'd said the right thing as the stout woman beamed and offered her hand. "Norma Winthrop. What brings you to Harmony, young Dean?"

Dean shifted uneasily as he tried to gauge the woman's response. So far the town hadn't exactly rolled out the welcome wagon for him and his brother; though he had to admit that Birdy and May's warm welcomes had more than made up for it.

"I was up at the Gallery." Keeping his reply vague, Dean couldn't help but scan the area around him once again for his brother.

He knew Sam, knew him better than anyone, and he knew his kid brother wouldn't have just abandoned him if he knew Dean had had some sort of accident. He couldn't help but wonder if he and Sam had split up after leaving Harmony House.

Apparently, the older Winchester's words had been a bit too vague as Norma's open expression suddenly clouded over. "The Gallery? She questioned.

Gesturing toward the Victorian house that stood only a block away, Dean explained, "The art gallery."

Frowning slightly, Norma took a step backward and rested her hands at her waist. "You came to town alone?"

The question threw Dean off for a moment as he noticed the woman's frown. Nodding slightly, Dean didn't mention Sam. He wasn't quite sure why, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea that he didn't offer up any more information.

Edging slightly away from the matronly woman, he kept lookout for his brother. Dean knew it wouldn't be hard to pick out Sam. The kid hadn't been able to blend in easily ever since he'd turned sixteen and had hit a major growth spurt. Since then the youth didn't bother to try and disappear so much as he worked to be unassuming. Most of the time it worked, there was just something about Sam's puppy-dog gaze and shaggy hair that made people underestimate him.

As he scanned the streets a sudden movement caught his attention and caused his jaw to drop open in surprise. There, making its way up the main thoroughfare was a horse and carriage.

"Huh, well, look at that," he said as he watched the buggy continue down the road.

He'd been through Pennsylvania Amish country often enough to find the sight of the old-fashioned mode of transportation not that surprising. Given Rachel Hodges decree that the town of Harmony should reflect the past the buggy actually made sense. Still…"The old biddy really goes all out doesn't she," he muttered.

At his words, Norma shot him another confused glance and nodded slowly. "Yes, my Dear. I see."

The confusion he could clearly read in Norma's expression had Dean taking a couple more steps away. He wasn't sure what was going on with the older woman, but he really had no interest in finding out. As he watched the carriage disappear, he noticed that something seemed different about the main thoroughfare. Earlier in the day he'd noticed the sheer number of cars that had lined the streets. Now, though it couldn't be much more than late afternoon given the position of the sun, it seemed as if everyone had cleared out.

Remembering Birdy's warning about the parking authority, Dean couldn't help but be grateful that he'd had the sense to leave his baby at Birch House. The last thing he needed was for the Chevy to end up getting towed. Intent on calling his brother, to give the younger man a warning, Dean reached into coat pocket for his cellphone.

It was then the last vestiges of Dean's confusion fell away giving him a moment of complete clarity for the first time since he'd come too. Instead of his usual uniform of jeans, work boots, tee-shirt, and a button down, he now found himself in a pair of black dress shoes, pinstripe pants and a matching vest that covered a white cotton dress shirt.

While he'd come to agree with Sam's insistence that dressing the part did indeed help their investigations, he was pretty damn sure he'd never once agreed to dress like an extra from a production of Our Town. Reaching out one shaking finger, he carefully lifted out the pocket watch that was tucked into his vest pocket. It was the solid feel of the watch more than anything else that had him realizing that he wasn't in some kind of dream or coma.

Fear and anger warred within the hunter as he backed up even farther, putting a few feet between him and the grey-haired woman that was now staring at him. He took in what he had assumed was a period costume before, noting the woman's dark navy skirt and snowy white blouse.

"What kind of freaky game are you people playing at?" Dean growled as he gestured toward his vintage clothing. "What'd you do to me?"

"I haven't done anything but try and help," the older woman insisted even as she held up a hand to ward him off.

"Listen Lady, I'm telling you now you better hope nothing's happened to my boots," Dean gestured toward the stiff black leather shoes he now sported as he began to advance on the older woman. The jeans and tee were replaceable, but it'd taken two weeks to fully break-in his only pair of boots.

"Young man, I do not know where you are from, but here in Harmony we do not accuse pillars of society of stealing clothes," Norma snapped as she turned her back on Dean and began to make her way down the street.

For one long moment, Dean considered going after the old broad. It was only the idea that his brother was most likely expecting him back at Birch House that convinced Dean to let her go. Grimacing at the feel of the unfamiliar clothes, Dean turned his back on the patrons of the café and set off down the street.

888

"Dean!" Sam shouted once more, ignoring the slight ache the words left in his throat. Near as he could tell his brother had been missing for nearly forty minutes now. At first, after Dean had disappeared, he'd drawn his gun and begun a methodical search of the building.

He'd moved quietly, using caution to ensure that Hodges or her lackey wouldn't be able to get the jump on him. However, as time had worn on and he'd come no closer to finding his brother let alone the old woman, he'd given up on quiet and had proceeded to shout the place down.

"Dean!"

So far his frantic search had taken him from the basement to the attic three times and had yet to yield anything. Coming to a halt at last in the display room where Dean had disappeared, Sam swiped a hand through his shaggy hair and tipped back his head. "Dean!"

Despite the fact that he knew the yelling was getting him nowhere, Sam couldn't help it. That his brother hadn't replied to Sam's shouts, or contacted him in some way, left the younger hunter with a hollow feeling in the center of his chest.

Ignoring the ache, Sam forced himself to take a deep breath. Despite the silence that drove home just how serious the situation was, Sam reminded himself of the many times he'd seen his big brother push himself beyond what should have been physically possible in order to return to him.

Dean would be okay if for no other reason than Sam needed him to be. His brother had spent the majority of his life giving Sam what he needed and not even Stanford had changed that. Since he'd returned to hunting, Sam had begun to realize the only reason he'd even had a chance at normal had been because of his big brother.

Growing up, Sam had felt as if his life had been warped beyond all normal. Yet, given what he'd seen over the last couple of months, the young hunter had come to realize just how hard Dean had worked to protect his innocence when they'd been kids. It hurt Sam to realize that there'd been no one to do the same for his brother.

Still, while he couldn't do anything about the past, the present was within his reach.

First, he had to admit that searching Harmony House was getting him nowhere fast. He needed more information. Even if he was to stumble across Hodge, her minion or the painting he had no clue what to do next.

Knowing that the disappearances in Chautauqua County began and ended with the Harmony Gallery wasn't enough. During his search he'd found no sign of either his brother or any of the victims that had gone missing.

"I'll be back, Dean. Just hold on," Sam muttered as he forced himself to head for the front door. The words were every bit as much a promise to his brother as they were a vow for himself.

As he made his way down the brick lined walkway, his back to Harmony House, Sam couldn't resist looking over his shoulder one more time at the hulking shadow of the gallery. The feeling of being watched stayed with him long after he exited through the small wooden gate and began to make his way down the cobblestone sidewalk.

The line of cars he passed as he made his way down Main Street, were an important reminder that he needed to be cautious. Tucking his gun away, he kept his gaze peeled for any kind of trouble. A woman of Rachel Hodges caliber probably had the local police in her back pocket. Landing himself in jail, or worse, ending up in some kind of showdown with the local PD wouldn't get his brother back.

Determined to act smart, Sam slipped into the ever increasing darkness without a sound.

888

Emma hummed slightly as she moved about the kitchen a bouquet of flowers from her garden in hand. Laying the blooms on the wooden block table that sat in the middle of the room, she quickly gathered up two vases and filled them with cool water from the sink. Removing a knife from the cupboard, she set about carefully pruning the flowers.

Taking her time she divided the blooms into the two vases primping and adjusting until she was completely satisfied. Leaving one of the vases in the center of the kitchen table, she took up the other and crossed the kitchen, heading for the dining room.

As she moved by the kitchen window a faint shadow caught her eye, causing her to change direction and head to the window above the sink instead. Squinting slightly, she took note of a figure moving through her backyard with a familiar ease.

The shock of seeing someone making their way through her garden was enough to have her fumbling with the vase she still held. Carefully placing the glass container on the kitchen counter, she ducked down beneath the window and headed for the kitchen door.

She'd come in from outside only moments ago and hadn't bothered locking the door. Realizing her mistake, she eased up next to the door and peeked through the glass. As she scanned the backyard she found no glimpse of the intruder. Her breathing began to settle slightly as she continued to watch the garden.

At last, certain she'd been imagining things; Emma straightened and moved away from the door. She'd only just retrieved her flowers, when the back door burst open, causing her to scream as the vase dropped from her hands and shattered on the vinyl floor.

Whipping around she faced the door, taking in the young man who now stood paused in the threshold. Though he held no weapon that she could see, the grim expression he wore, coupled with the way he seemed to fill the doorframe had Emma bolting from the room.

The sound of a muttered curse and footsteps behind her had her grabbing up her long skirts in one hand and picking up her pace. Through the dining room she ran, her intention to get to the front door before the man pursuing her could catch up.

She was half-way to freedom when a sudden weight slammed into her from behind, knocking her forward. Braced for impact, Emma was instead surprised to find her fall cushioned by a pair of strong arms. As they tumbled to the ground, her assailant twisted taking the brunt of the fall.

Only slightly winded from the hard landing, Emma found herself staring down into the greenest eyes she'd ever seen.

"Easy," the man breathed even as he tightened his grip on her.

The arms locked about her waist might as well have been bands of steel for all that Emma was able to budge them when at last she shook off her surprise and began to struggle.

"Let me go," she begged, hating the pleading tone of her voice.

The green-eyed devil ignored her order, rolled them both over and came to rest on top of her. His weight now easily supported by his elbows, he again cautioned her, "Easy, I'm not here to hurt you."

Trapped and unwilling to wait for the intruder's next move, Emma ignored his words and continued to struggle to free herself. "Get off of me," She panted as she shoved against the solid weight of his body.

"Stop, Emma," he ordered, his use of her name temporarily stunning her into submission.

"You're safe with me," he promised as he took advantage of her sudden stillness and reared back, drawing her up beside him.

Despite the fact that her shaking legs threatened to drop her back to the floor at any moment, she couldn't help but draw some comfort from her upright position. No matter what the stranger intended, Emma felt better facing it standing.

"Who are you?" she questioned. Despite the fact that he knew her name, Emma was certain she'd never seen him before. Looming over her, he had a presence about him that was intimidating to say the least.

"My name is Dean Winchester and believe it or not, I've been looking for you."

Though his words were ridiculous, Emma could clearly hear the sincerity in his rough reply. "Looking for me?" she questioned, "I haven't gone anywhere."

Even as she said the words a wave of uncertainty washed over her, leaving her reeling. Tearing her gaze from the man before her, Emma focused on her surroundings. The familiar sight of her living room, helped to drive away her doubts. "This is my house, you can't just come barging in here," she insisted.

Still gripping her wrist, the man tugged, drawing her toward the sofa. Pushing down on her shoulder he forced Emma to take a seat. Though she wanted to appear strong, it really didn't take much force to make her knees buckle, dropping her down onto the couch with a thump.

"Listen to me, Emma; you've been missing for nearly two weeks. This isn't your house; in fact, I'm not even sure this is…" Here the young man looked down at his own clothes and grimaced. "Your time."

888

Hoping to stop the slight tremor that had started in his hands moments ago, Dean drew in a deep breath and tried to marshal his thoughts. Up until about ten minutes ago his earlier headache had all but disappeared. Then, just after he'd tumbled across Emma it had returned with stomach clenching vengeance. Now it was taking all he had to remain on his feet.

"My time?" the pretty red-head questioned as she stared up at him with wide frightened eyes.

Focusing on her words, Dean nodded and considered what he'd pieced together so far. His walk from the Gallery to Birch house had been informative to say the least. The town of Harmony had changed since he'd awoken outside of the art house, and he couldn't honestly say it had been for the better.

Gone were the jean and tee-shirt sporting tourists. No longer did the sidewalks boast red-faced dad's pushing overloaded strollers while their progeny whined. Even the discreet signs proclaiming that stores offered Pepsi-Cola and accepted Visa were gone. As near as he could tell the town had reverted to how it must have been in the early 1900's.

He'd awoken to a world where every modern convenience was gone; including his jockey shorts and his car. As he sat, considering the stifling undershirt and long drawers he now sported under his twill pants and dress shirt, he found himself missing the former much more than the latter.

"Our time…your time…2005," he clarified.

Considering that the young girl was looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, Dean had to figure she had no clue what he was talking about. Then again, maybe she was right and he had lost his marbles, after all, he was the one trying to prove that they'd both been tossed into a different time, or maybe even a different dimension.

As 'buckets of crazy' as it sounded it was all he had at the moment so he went with it. "Emma, you have to know something wrong. We don't belong here?"

"Here?" she questioned, confusion lacing her voice. "You mean in this house. But I live here."

"No," Dean stated firmly. "This house was built for Victoria Holt in 1898. After she passed away her daughter Birdy inherited it."

The woman paled at Dean's words, one shaky hand reaching up to brush against her forehead. The elder Winchester could sympathize, if Emma's headache was anything like his own, it was a wonder she was still standing.

"No, this is my house, I'm sure of it."

"No, Emma, it's not. Your name is Emma Stone, you're twenty-five and you work for an auction house, your boss and friend Sarah Blake asked my brother and I to find you. You were passing through Harmony on a buying trip when you up and disappeared."

Again, she shook her head. "No. I mean…yes, my name is Emma Stone, but I live here. I have since…"

Here Emma's words trailed off and her face went slack. For a long moment she sat her eyes blank and staring. Dean had a sudden moment of fear that he'd pushed too hard.

Then with an exaggerated blink, she grabbed his shirt sleeve and gave a sudden exaggerated blink. "I was in Harmony House, looking over some art-work when all the sudden I woke up on the street dressed like this," She breathed, gesturing toward her outfit.

"Finally," Dean muttered as he grabbed hold of Emma's hand and twisted his sleeve out of her grasp. Taking her shaking hands in his own, he prodded, "So, you woke up and then what? You just picked this place to call home?"

"No," Emma whispered, "No, I had a key, I recognized the sign and then…"

"And then?" The hunter prodded, urging her on.

"I let myself inside and that's the last thing I can remember." Here Emma's eyes seemed to lose focus again for a minute before she turned toward Dean and begged, "But that can't be. If I've been gone for two weeks, I mean what the hell have I been doing?"

Looking about the neatly kept home, Dean ventured a guess, "I'm thinking you've been playing at house. Is there anything else?"

"The headaches," Emma replied immediately. Tugging at the high collar of her shirtwaist the redhead drew in a shaky breath. "I've been having these massive headaches."

Dean nodded and pointed toward his own head, "Right there with ya, sweetheart."

"Wait, you said you and your brother were looking for me? If you're here, where is he?"

"That's a good question," Dean ground out as he glanced about the room. He didn't know which he was wishing for more, that Sam had gotten away free and clear and was even now trying to find a way to get him back, or that his giant of a brother had gotten sucked into the time warp with him and any minute now he was going to come barreling in bellowing Dean's name.

Either way there was one thing the elder Winchester was sure of, whoever had done this to him had better not have laid a single finger on his baby brother or there was going to be hell to pay.

TBC


End file.
